


Don't go knocking on the hot neighbour's door

by headraline



Series: Detroit: Become Human Prompts [13]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism?, Happy Ending, I blame the RK1K discord, M/M, Masturbation, More characters to come, Neighbours AU, Sort Of, Top Connor, but also top markus, eventual sexytimes, human! au, multiple past pairings, not clogging the tags for now, polyamory & casual sex, swtich couple, they take turns ok, y'all know who you are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 01:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headraline/pseuds/headraline
Summary: Connor is quite happy to find an apartment close to the police station he works at and with a cheap rent.He's less happy to discover that the reason why the rent is so cheap is that the walls are paper-thin and he has to endure listening to his neighbour have absurdly loud sex every night.





	1. Hello, neighbour

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY, Y'ALL ASKED.
> 
> This is Cat Lad all over again.  
> Sorry the prologue is so short, but.  
> It's just how my mind works.  
> If I'm lucky and get struck with inspiration, I might actually get another chapter of this out either tonight or tomorrow.  
> And I'm _still_ working on Walls. _And_ IUPG.
> 
> Why do I do this to myself.
> 
> I entirely blame the RK1K discord for this, especially Court, Lisa, Dig and Parker.
> 
> Oh who am I kidding, I love you all. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

_“Oh, God!”_

Connor’s first instinct, as he bolts wide awake, is to reach for a gun holster at his side that he’s not actually wearing.

_“Oh— oh— fuck, Markus…”_

The daze of sleep clears pretty sharply when Connor realizes exactly _what_ the sudden scream that jolted him awake was about. No wonder the rent in his new place is so cheap; the walls must be wafer-thin for the sound to carry so loudly.

_“Fuck, just like that… yeah…”_

That’s… more than a little awkward. Whoever this ‘Markus’ is, he’s clearly having a very good time with his partner. Hopefully they’ll be done soon and then he can get some freaking sleep.

Connor turns in his bed, placing his pillow around his ears.

A thump strong enough to rattle his bedframe makes him realize –his neighbour’s bedroom confines with his own. That explains a lot.

_“Ah— Mark— ah— I’m gonna— I’m gonna—”_

_Right_. Time for Connor to get his earbuds and blast some Knights of the Black Death into his ears until he passes out.

Well.

That was a fun night. For his neighbour at any rate.

Connor will admit to being slightly jealous –he hasn’t had any action for a while, let alone any action _like that_ … to be honest, he doesn’t think he _ever_ had any sex worthy of making bedframes in the next apartment over _rattle_. Which is just plain unfair, but hey, good on his neighbour to have a healthy sex life.

It might have been a bit rude to be that loud with complete disregard for… well, anyone in the goddamn apartment building, but it’s not like this will be an everyday occurrence, Right?

 

Wrong, apparently. For three consecutive nights after that, his neighbour, ‘Markus’, he deduces, has a different person over each time. One woman and two men respectively, by the sounds of it. And each time they proceed to have annoyingly loud sex.

It was so bad that the guys at the station have noticed him come in progressively more and more sleep-deprived, and when Reed overheard him complain to Miller about his rude-ass neighbour the asshole just thought it funny and said he was just mad because _he_ wasn’t getting any.

Which may or may not be true, but not the point. Also, Reed would know how that would feel wouldn’t he? Connor told him that much, on top of inviting the other detective to kindly shut the fuck up, and carried on about his business.

Which involved focusing on detective work and _not at all_ thinking about how for three times in a row he woke up half-hard after a night filled with moans and gasps coming from the other side of his wall.

Like tonight.

 _“Fuck— harder!”_ it doesn’t help that this ‘Markus’ is apparently very, very vocal, _“C’mon big guy, I know you can give me more—”_

Even if he hadn’t been a detective, Connor would have been able to tell: it sounds like Markus is bottoming this time. He blames the fact that he hasn’t had sex in like four months –don’t cheat, Connor, it’s been _six_ months– for how his brain hammers that thought in a little heavier than the rest. It’s not his fault, really, thrice over now he’s woken up sexually frustrated because the _noises_ his neighbour made at night elicited a rather obvious response in his body.

More thumping on the other side of his wall and his neighbour’s voice dissolves into a cacophony of broken moans.

 _“Oh, fuck—”_ Connor is, frankly, baffled. It almost sounds like the plot to a bad porn –character A hears loud noises of character B having sex, goes to complain, they have more sex.

Psh. As _if_. Connor has half a mind to slap a noise complaint on this bitch.

He’s a cop; he knows the procedures like the back of his hand.

 _“So fucking good, baby…”_ whoever is fucking this Markus guy is really giving him a good time, because no more coherent words come out of his mouth.

Something falls to the floor and crashes, and his asshole neighbour just _laughs_ about it as he continues to get fucked.

_“Shit… yeah— ah— I’m close…”_

Okay, _that’s it._

Things seem to be finally wrapping up –seriously, if Connor wasn’t so pissed he would commend the guy’s stamina, but as it is now he’s had enough. Work has been hell today, he had to chase a perp for four blocks in the streets and nearly got run over twice, he’s been working on four hours of sleep a night or less thanks to his neighbour’s _enthusiastic_ adventures, and is just about  _done_ with this bullshit.

The sex noises have died down, his neighbour seems to be making small talk with tonight’s fuckbuddy as said ‘guest’ gets dressed and ready to go, so Connor takes his chance to grab his keys just in case and step out, still in barefoot and in his Moomin pyjamas –he couldn’t care less, he’s beyond pissed at this point. He walks the small distance to his neighbour’s door just in time to see a tall brunette walking out the door that just closed, clothes haphazardly put on and looking, for all intents and purposes, completely fucked out.

_Hope you had good fun, you asshole._

Since ‘Markus’ doesn’t seem to worry about loud noises, Connor doesn’t worry about knocking hard enough on his door to shake it.

“What? Did you forget something, Will— oh. Hello?”

Connor had several things he wanted to say upon coming face to face with his rude, loud-ass neighbour. He wanted to yell at him for being an inconsiderate ass, ask him to kindly keep it the fuck down since some of them actually have fucking jobs and the like, but… all proper speech dies in his throat for a second because… fuck, he gets it, now.

His rude, loud-ass neighbour, ‘Markus’, is absolutely, undeniably, drop-dead _gorgeous._

Freckled amber skin covered in love-bites, tall and lean with a torso that would put Michelangelo’s David to shame, and the most strikingly beautiful pair of mismatched eyes Connor has ever seen on a human being –the right one a light blue, the left one a vibrant malachite green.

And he answered the door with just his green bedsheet loosely wrapped around his waist.

Connor has to blink himself out of his stupor and swallow on thin air to remember what he came out to do – _shit; he’s wearing his stupid[Moomin pyjamas](https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/71CiuMvMEvL._UY445_.jpg)_!

“Um. Hello. Sorry to… bother you, but—” He struggles to keep his eyes from straying along the other’s body, “There were— noises—” Fuck why is it suddenly so hard to articulate words right now?

Markus is looking at him with a curious smile. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” He says, velvety voice just slightly scratchy, possibly from all the screaming he just did, “Who might you be?”

Oh, right. Still gay.

Connor clears his voice and shakes his head, taking a small breath to muster up his no-nonsense detective side. “You see, I don’t really wanna bother you but all the— _sounds_ you’ve been making are kind of a disturbance, and as your neighbour I…”

Markus is still looking him up and down as he interrupts: “Wait, you’re my neighbour?” he seems genuinely surprised by that, “I thought the apartment beside me was empty!”

Oh. Ooooh. That… explains a lot. For example, it tells Connor that this Markus guy is not just an inconsiderate jackass –his apartment is the one at the end of the hall, so if the one beside it was really empty he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping anyone up.

No. It’s not an excuse, Connor’s frustrated side tells him. “I moved in last week.” He finds himself explaining, despite having nothing to explain himself for, really.

To be fair, Markus pales slightly in realization. “Oh.” He mutters, and Connor can practically _see_ him mentally go over all of his nightly exploits of the last few days, “I was out of town last week, must have missed it.” Aaaand there it is. That’s the mortified contrition Connor was aiming to get for the first take. “Shit.”

Indeed.

In what’s probably a rather desperate attempt to recover from that kind of first impression, Markus shoots Connor a gaze that would be sultry under any other circumstance but it just serves to exasperate him further. “Well, if you’re my new neighbour…” He lifts one of his hands to go and lean on the side of the doorframe with a smirk… “ _Hello_ , neighbo—” …but he misses, his hand slips and he smacks the side of his head against said doorframe.

Which in turn makes him step back in surprise and trip on the sheet that was wrapped around his waist. He tumbles to the floor with a very painful-sounding thump. It would be hilarious and also taste like lovely, lovely payback, but Connor is in the police force, and his first and foremost instinct is and will always be to ‘serve and protect’.

“Oh shit, are you okay?!”

From the way Markus groans on the floor, Connor can at least deduce he’s still alive. Regardless, Connor lets himself in and closes the door before kneeling beside the other.

He gently turns Markus’ head to face him. “Hey. Hey, look at me.” Pointing a finger at the other’s nose, he moves his hand left to right, “Follow my finger with your eyes.”

Satisfied that Markus’ pupils are responsive, Connor shifts his hand to support the back of his neighbour’s head. “Can you tell me your name?”

“My name is Markus.” The other groans out, then adding: “Wait, are you testing my mental state?”

“Call it a professional habit.” Connor replies, smiling despite himself, “I’m going to help you sit up, ok?”

Markus nods and lets himself be guided to sit up and lean against the wall. “You a doctor?”

“No. I’m in the police force.”

“ _Shit._ ” It seems to be sinking in now, exactly how much of a jackass he inadvertently was.

Connor can’t help the chuckle that escapes him. “Relax. You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m so, _so_ sorry— if I had known— I mean…” Markus trails off with a sigh, drawing his feet close to his body to sit cross-legged under the sheet, “I really fucked up my chances of a good first impression, didn’t I?”

Connor is still crouched by his side, briefly brushing his fingers against Markus’ neck to check his pulse just in case. “Maybe a little.” He admits with a smile, “Are you okay to stand up?”

“I’m okay… I wasn’t hurt that bad.” Markus assures, but he does take Connor’s offered hand while the other keeps the sheet in place around his waist, “Just my dignity.”

“It looked bad from my point of view. Plus, I’ve had to hear you have all sorts of sex for four days in a row.” The detective can’t help but comment, “You had no dignity to lose to begin with, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Ouch.” And yet, Markus chuckles.

They stay like that for a few more seconds, unsure of what to do or say, but realization slowly seeps into Connor that his neighbour is still _very_ naked, and he’s _still_ wearing the stupid cartoon pyjamas.

_Here I am, meeting an insanely hot naked stranger and this is what I’m wearing for the occasion. Fuck, why is this my life?_

“So, um…” Markus starts, eyes briefly flicking down Connor’s form as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “You probably wanna get some sleep, and I should as well…”

“I’ll feel better if I see you drink some water first.” Connor objects, “And put some ice on that cheekbone. It didn’t feel broken upon touch, but it’ll probably bruise.”

“Sir yes, sir.” Markus says jokingly with a wink, and the detective’s mind immediately and happily precipitates down the gutter.

Connor ends up waiting outside his neighbour’s bedroom as he goes to put on some underwear and they chat for almost an hour in Markus’ kitchen afterwards –only after Markus has kept an icepack on his face for the entire time and the swelling has subsided Connor declares himself satisfied and wishes him a good rest of the night.

The next day he’s still half-dead at work and has to drink two coffees to even see well enough to read reports, but when he returns home at half past seven he finds a basket of what looks like homemade cookies on his doorstep, along with a handwritten note:

 

_~Sorry for being a noisy jackass._

_I’ll try my best to keep it down from now on.~_

_~M_

 

Despite the rocky start, it’s a thoughtful gesture; and at least Markus is owning up to his faults.

Connor smiles as he takes the basket in –maybe his loud neighbour isn’t so bad after all.

He looks forward to a good night’s sleep tonight.


	2. Best intentions and roads to hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and his neighbour find themselves in a routine of sorts.
> 
> Neither of them finds it weird -not that they talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still blaming discord for this.  
> Y'all know who you are.
> 
> ...Idk, just take my love.

 

Old habits apparently die hard.

Despite his best efforts, Markus still enjoys a very active and very crowded sex life; and he’s still very noisy in bed. To his credit, it doesn’t happen _every_ single day anymore, but it still happens often enough, much to Connor's exasperation—

He can’t even bring himself to be too mad at Markus anymore, the man is sincerely trying his best: one time he was with a girl who could’ve been a goddamn soprano with how loud she was, and Connor deadass heard Markus say _“Shhh, baby, not so loud, I’ve got you…”_

Another time, he was rudely woken up by his bedframe rattling again –Markus probably got slammed against the wall by tonight’s one-night-stand of choice, and yet Connor heard him curse as he connected the dots. _“Shit!”_ and then he told his partner _“Hey, why don’t we take this to the living room?”_

Connor felt very conflicted when, upon the unknown fuckbuddy asking why, Markus replied with: _“Look, do you want me to ride you on the couch or not?”_

The noises became much less intrusive once the pair changed rooms. On one hand, the detective was still a bit frustrated at Markus because, really, was it so hard to keep things down a bit? But on the other hand, his neighbour was actually trying and even made his nightly guests come less frequently –which he really didn’t have to, provided he kept the noise down.

The next few weeks are… definitely interesting.

Living next door to each other, they inevitably see each other more now that Markus is back in town from wherever he had been, and they hear one another putter around even during the day, if they happen to be home at the same time.

Connor learns a lot about Markus –the other is home a lot, possibly works from home even, if the phone call with someone called Carl where he actually said “Yeah, I’m working right now” was any indication. The detective will admit to himself that he is quite curious; there’s a whole realm of possibilities as an answer to that question, but he can’t even begin to imagine what Markus could possibly do for a living.

Some of their other neighbours, upon seeing the two of them chat when crossing paths in the hallway, or when Connor would return the containers of Markus’ occasional homemade treats, have advised Connor to steer clear of the other man.

Mrs. Stern from the third floor is firmly convinced that Markus is a sex worker and has been trying to get him evicted for months. Luckily for his exuberant neighbour, the landlord has never found anything that would warrant such actions –Markus respects the building’s rules, having plenty of visitors doesn’t constitute a violation and, now that he’s trying his best to keep it down, he’s not even causing a disturbance anymore.

Coming to think of it, Connor is mildly put off by the way the building’s other residents speak about Markus. The fact that he keeps to himself most of the time and has many occasional partners isn’t an excuse to talk behind his back at every chance. And he was uncomfortable on his neighbour’s behalf more than once upon hearing some of the ladies from the floor below them make some choice comments about what someone like Markus is good for and what they’d do to him and with him.

He politely excused himself at that point, but not before reminding the ladies that just because someone has an active sex life it doesn’t give others free reign to objectify them like that –had Markus been a woman, both residents would have probably been outraged upon hearing someone say the same things they were saying about Markus just now.

It’s probably not his place to defend Markus to others, but he himself won’t; and he possibly doesn’t even know what gets said when he’s not there… they don’t interact much, but Connor still feels like the treatment Markus gets just because of his reputation is unfair.

After all, he’s been nothing but nice to Connor, and even if he still often fails at keeping the noise down, he really does try his best.

_“Well I’ve been a sinner, and you’ve been a saint…_

_And I’m bad news, but baby, you ain’t…”_

A smile finds its way on Connor’s lips before he can help it –among all other things he learned about Markus, there’s that. The man sings in the shower and has a lovely singing voice.

Though, to be fair, that Markus’ voice is _lovely_ was already clear from his very first few ‘performances’, and Connor honestly cannot say which kind he likes more.

No, _bad_ Connor! It’s inappropriate and creepy!

_“And I hope we get no more complaints,_

_‘cause I’m staying… on the straight and narrow…”_

To be fair, Markus makes it very hard not to think about his voice.

Connor may or may not be developing a crush on the hot neighbour he barely interacts with.

Shit, how pathetic is that?

Just to get his mind off the tangent it was going towards, he leans against the wall and yells out: “So, when’s your next album coming out?”

 _“Oh shit, you could hear me?”_ the sound of water turning off makes Connor chuckle even more, _“My bad!”_

That’s usually all it takes to make Markus notice he’s being loud and actually make an effort to keep it down. It took a few weeks for Connor to realize, but behind his neighbour’s apparent thoughtlessness there might be a sadder truth than one would expect: he’s used to always being alone, so worrying about noise has never been a thing for him.

If anything, he’s gotten used to _make_ noise just to fill in the silence around him –and it’s also in line with the habit of having a parade of boyfriends and girlfriends come and go as frequently as changing underwear: filling your bed to ignore the hole in your chest.

Connor knows it’s a presumptuous assumption to make about a guy he’s basically just been eavesdropping on, but something in Markus’ eyes during the few times they get to speak does betray a certain sense of loneliness.

Why else would someone make homemade food for a neighbour they barely know and speak to as if they’d known each other for years? Surely there would be someone better suited to be on the receiving end of such kindness.

Markus keeps insisting it’s to make up for being such a noisy ass, Connor keeps thinking it’s actually because he offhandedly mentioned to his neighbour how little time to cook detective work leaves you, and Markus is just that nice of a person.

The many sexual escapades become a sort of inside joke between them, Connor teases Markus about being unable to be silent and Markus teases him back about listening in.

Not that the detective would actually keep himself awake willingly to listen to Markus having sex. Now _that_ would be inappropriate.

There have been sometimes where, comparatively to the first days, the noise coming from Markus’ apartment is very faint and Connor is tired enough from his shift to not care, so he just sort of… lets his neighbour’s moans lull him to sleep.

Those nights usually make for very interesting dreams and very awkward mornings.

It gets increasingly difficult not to think about Markus whenever he’s alone and bothered.

Especially because, when he gets a differently timed shift at some point, he walks out his door, uniform and all, just in time to see Markus ushering in another one of his countless friends with benefits –a petite blonde with blue eyes and a gentle face that Connor has already seen a few times before.

“Evening, _detective_.”

They just happen to cross gazes and it’s out of the detective’s mouth before he can think of how creepy it sounds: “Evening, Markus. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Way to sound like a voyeuristic creep, Connor.

Instead of being instantly uncomfortable, Markus smiles wider at him. “No promises. You take care out there, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

It’s close to five in the morning when Connor comes back from his shift, and all is silent on Markus’ side.

For some reason, it takes him way longer than usual to fall asleep.

 

Connor doesn’t quite know what to think the next afternoon, crossing paths with Markus’ blonde companion on the way out.

 “Oh. I didn’t think you’d stay.” He blurts out, before realizing exactly how that sounded. “Oh God I’m so sorry, that’s absolutely none of my business—”

“It’s okay.” The other assures, extending a hand, “I’m Simon.”

“I know. I like you better than most others, you’re much quieter than William, _he’s_ an asshole.” Fuck, what is wrong with his brain today? “I am… so sorry.”

Simon, bless his apparently saintly heart, just chuckles slightly. “It’s okay. I and a few others have been on Markus’ case about the shit he pulls, too. What’s your name?”

“Connor.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Connor, and sorry if I’ve ever contributed to the noise pollution in your apartment.” They share a few seconds of silence, during which a million questions go through Connor’s head but he’s embarrassed himself enough already so he just stands there, until the other takes it upon himself: “Come on, I can see you wanting to ask.”

“How are you okay with any of it?” it’s out of Connor’s mouth before he can rein it back, and something in the way Simon’s expression changes makes his chest clench uncomfortably.

“We’re just really good friends.” Simon replies at first, leaning against the hallway wall, “He sees who he wants, I see who I want… as do any of our other friends. North’s been monogamous for a while ever since Markus introduced her to Chloe, though.”

Connor isn’t the best with names, especially with ones randomly moaned during nights where he tries his best _not_ to listen, but if memory serves, his neighbour basically introduced two women he separately slept with and they’ve ended up happily together.

And he thought _his_ life was strange.

“I… I see.”

Simon is nothing but gentle smiles. “Look, I know it’s not an easy thing to wrap your mind around.” He says, shrugging, “Markus is… not like most people. He’s got worlds inside him but just doesn’t quite know his own worth-he seeks out things that…. Well. He needs people to like him a lot. Best thing we can do as his friends is making sure that he’s safe.”

The underlying worry in Simon’s words makes Connor wonder –Markus clearly has never been too selective with his partners… the risk of ending up sharing a bed with the wrong person is quite high, if you invite just about anyone into your bed –he’s pretty sure that the shame of their disastrous first encounter, coupled with the knowledge that he’s a cop, is the only reason why Markus immediately stopped hitting on him.

“I suppose so?” he’s really not sure what to say to that, but it doesn’t seem a problem for Simon, as he moves to leave.

“Well, I have to go.” He does turn back to face the detective before heading for the stairs: “It was nice meeting you, Connor. I’m glad Markus has a neighbour like you to look out for him.”

Connor is left to watch the other leave and wonder what the hell that was about.

His ‘conversations’ with Markus keep happening –if one of them just so happens to knock against something and curse loudly, the other will yell out _“Hey, man, you ok?”_ and so on.

It’s… comforting, to a degree.

Definitely better than coming out to an empty, silent and dreary place, especially after the draining tasks of his line of work. As strange and indirect as their companionship is, it’s a soothing thought for Connor, to have Markus just a wall away, with his shower songs and clanging of pots and pans as he makes delicious food –the detective does wonder who the hell does a man who lives alone cook so much for, but he doesn’t complain since it brings quick, lovely chats of “I made too much, would you like some?” which in turn bring the customary “Here’s your container, I just washed it for you”.

It’s nice.

Until it isn’t.

 _“What are you doing here?”_ Markus’ voice is much less sexy tonight –he sounds pissed, but Connor recognizes the edge in his voice: fear.

  _“You didn’t call me. I thought we had a thing!”_

 _“And we did. A thing. As in a singular thing. I was very clear about that.”_ Shit. Sounds like one of Markus’ many casual hook-ups didn’t get the memo. He hears some shuffling around; they must be walking back and forth or something.

_“Come on, babe, you don’t mean that…”_

_“How can you assume to know what I do and don’t mean? And what gives you the right to wait outside my apartment door?!”_

This goes beyond insistent ass and into full-on stalker territory. Unable to help himself, Connor bangs against his bedroom wall a couple times with his fist. “Hey, Markus! Everything okay in there?”

_“Yes, Connor, sorry for the noise!”_

_“Who the fuck is that?”_

_“Oh, that’s my neighbour. My_ cop _neighbour.”_ Connor feels nervousness coil in his gut –if Markus felt the need to stress that about him, it means he’s more than a little scared, _“It’s late and I wanna sleep. Why don’t you get out of my face and get the fuck out?”_

_“But babe, I—”_

Connor doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He slips on a pair of trousers, checks that his t-shirt is _not_ a stupid cartoon one, and gets out to knock.

The speed with which Markus comes to open the door would be enough to tell he's relieved, even if his face hadn’t been showing it. “Hey. Am I keeping you up again?” his neighbour asks, with a smile just on this side of tense.

“I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Yeah, we’re fine, you can fuck off.”

Connor doesn’t bat an eyelash at the rude treatment Markus’ unwanted guest reserves him. He squares his shoulders a little and fixes an unimpressed gaze on the man. “As _charming_ as it is to make your acquaintance, I was not talking to you.” He says, stepping inside the apartment and pointedly placing himself in front of his neighbour, between the two of them. “I have heard Markus is eager to send you on your way.” He adds, “So why don’t you respect his wishes?”

“Who do you think you are—”

“Of course, if I had reason to believe Markus doesn’t feel safe in his own house, I can assist him in the proper procedures to get a restraining order.” Connor interrupts, not missing a beat and not changing tone or facial expression, “Is that something that will be necessary, or will you peacefully be on your way?”

Begrudgingly, the nameless man scoffs and walks out the door. “…fine.”

Just on the doorway, Connor grabs him by a wrist and tugs to make him turn: “Markus has made it very clear that he doesn’t want to see you anymore. _Don’t_ make me see you sniff around his apartment ever again.” He hisses, gaze still stone-cold, “Surely it’s not worth it to get into trouble with the police force?”

Despite being taller and bigger than the detective, stalker-guy gulps discreetly. “…yeah. Got it.”

Connor lets out a sigh of relief once the door closes. “Well, that went about as well as it could’ve—”

When he turns, Markus is staring at him with a stupefied expression, as if he’d just done something extraordinary. He supposes his neighbour isn’t used to having too many people that would stand up for him like that –barring Simon, that North girl and a couple others that Connor hasn’t seen stop by in a while.

When he finally speaks, Markus sounds just slightly breathless. “Thank you for doing that.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Connor assures, belatedly taking in the sight of his neighbour –he might be some kind of artist, now that the detective thinks about it: he’s wearing a paint smock and there’s a duffel bag with art supplies left abandoned by the door. Whatever activity Markus was coming home late from, it clearly involved paint.

“Still. Not many people would have bothered.”

Connor can’t hold back his next words: “I’ve been to one too many murder scenes that started just like that. Call it a sense of duty.”

“Shit.” Markus looks down and worries his lower lip with his teeth. It’s definitely a grim way to put it, but one can never be too sure; and it’s definitely better to worry about something that turns out to be nothing rather than dismissing something that actually turns out bad. He takes a long, slightly shuddering breath, and then finds it in himself to smile: “My very own knight in shining armour.”

It does pull a chuckle out of Connor as well. “Anytime.” He assures, then holding up a hand, “ _If_ you promise to be a little more selective with your partners. Please?”

“Scout’s honor!”

“Oh please, you were never a scout.”

“No, but I banged a few in high school.”

“Markus!”

They’re laughing now. It’s just easy to let everything else fall away, when he’s talking to his crazy neighbour. Connor could listen to him all night – _has_ listened to him all night on some rather embarrassing occasions.

“Hey, why don’t you stay for a drink?” Markus says after his giggles die down, “It’s the least I could do, after you rescued me so valiantly.”

A drink, a late night chat… it could very easily turn into _something else_.

“Thanks, but… I have an early shift tomorrow.” Fuck, he’s a coward. He does have an early shift lined up, but that’s not the reason he’s passing up on this. He just… doesn’t want to be just another notch on Markus’ belt, however inviting the promise of a night together sounds.

For his part, Markus just hums in understanding. “Raincheck?”

“Sure.” Connor does his best to smile as he opens the door to let himself out, “Goodnight, Markus.”

“Goodnight, Connor.”

 

He keeps his distance for a few days after that –which is just as well; works is pure hell as they wrap up a murder investigation that had half the precinct shuddering at the mere thought of it. An elderly woman was found murdered in her own house with no sign of forced entry and little to no clues as to who the perpetrator or the motive might have been… turns out it was the woman’s own _son_. Over _money._

He killed her, just like that, _stabbed her twelve times with a kitchen knife_ –over a monetary dispute.

Connor comes home drained and with his faith in humanity significantly decreased. He takes a quick, scalding hot shower, then barely puts on a pair of sweatpants before moving into his living room to beat the shit out of his punching bag.

His punches get more and more aggressive until he delivers one that makes the chain rattle loudly with a scream, to boot –and he wouldn’t have noticed his hands getting red and raw if it wasn’t for a knock coming from the direction of his bedroom wall.

_“Connor? You ok, man?”_

The detective releases a trembling sigh. Not okay by a long shot, but that’s just the way his work is. “I… yeah. Yeah!” he calls back, only half remembering to say it loud enough to be heard. “It’s a bit ironic, but sorry! I’ll keep it down!”

He’s still leaning his forehead against the punching bag when there’s another knock. From the door this time.

“Connor? May I come in?”

Markus sounds so meek from the other side. So unlike his wild, sensual persona whenever he has someone over –it’s been throwing Connor for a loop a lot, actually: how can someone who’s so wild in bed be that much of a disaster in regular social situations? According to Josh, another one of Markus’ close friends and occasional hook-ups, it’s just the way he’s always been.

Connor looks around his apartment. It’s tidy enough, and he’s just about as presentable as he feels, after having dragged a murderer’s ass to the slammer. He goes to open the door.

“Hey.”

Blue and green eyes widen a fraction when Markus sees him, no doubt because of his sorry state, but his neighbour still smiles at him where he stands, wearing a thin long-sleeved shirt over ripped jeans and carrying a tray of something warm and delicious-smelling. “Hey.” He greets back, smiling tentatively at him. “I have pie?”

“I, uh… I’m not hungry, Markus, but thank you.” Yeah, he’ll believe that for sure. The flat tone is really selling it.

Predictably, his neighbour catches on. “You’re also not ok.” He says, gentle smile still in place. “And your knuckles are bleeding. How about you invite me in and we get a band-aid over that boo-boo?”

Despite himself, the detective already feels marginally better. He smirks as he throws Markus’ words from their first encounter back at him: “You a doctor?”

The other doesn’t miss it, and laughs lowly. “No. Just a really good neighbour. Am I allowed in?”

Connor opens the door the rest of the way to let Markus in.

Their apartments have largely the same layout, only specular to one another –which is how their bedrooms had the unfortunate fate of sharing a wall– so Markus knows exactly where the living room is, and lets himself inside easily, putting the pie on the coffee table he finds there and then heading confidently to where he knows he’ll find a bathroom.

“You take a seat!” he tells Connor, almost bodily pushing him down on his own sofa, “I’ll be right back! Where do you keep your first aid?”

“Cabinet behind the mirror.” The detective manages to say, slightly dumbfounded both at the proximity and all the attention –it’s been a long time since he last let anyone take care of him.

“Found it!” Markus calls victoriously, coming back from the bathroom and plopping down on the couch beside him.

For a moment, neither says or does anything.

“Um…”

“Your hand, Connor.”

“Huh?”

Markus bites back a chuckle. “I need you to give me your hand so I can patch it up.”

“Oh, right.” The detective holds out his hands, and Markus takes them in his own to check the extent of the damage.

Connor tries not to think about how warm the other’s hands feel, despite the calluses –definitely an artist’s hands. Markus runs a thumb gently around the outside of the scrapes, before nodding to himself and wetting a cotton pad with disinfectant.

“It doesn’t look too bad.” He says, keeping his voice low and calming, “Chances are, if you’re careful with it tonight, tomorrow morning you’ll be able to go about your business without even a plaster on.”

Connor just hums noncommittally, preferring to watch Markus as he works. They sit in silence until Markus is finished cleaning the scrape and placing a plaster over the worst bit of it, but doesn’t let go of Connor’s hand.

“So… do you wanna talk about it?”

His hands are so, so warm. Connor has to close his eyes. “Not really…” he says at first. “It’s just…”

“Hey, it’s okay. We can just sit here and eat pie, if you don’t want to talk.”

Markus is barely finished reassuring him that he doesn’t have to tell him anything when Connor blurts out: “I caught a man who killed his own mother today.”

Well, shit.

He’d always known Connor was in the force, but this makes it real, as opposed to just background knowledge in the recesses of his mind and possibly a uniform fantasy or two –the detective is attractive, there’s no two ways about it, but after he made a complete ass out of himself for four days straight _and_ during their first meeting? Markus is pretty sure his chances with Connor are abysmal, even though right now he’s sitting right by him while his hot cop neighbour is shirtless –and it really doesn’t matter in light of what Connor just told him.

“Shit, Connor, that’s… that sounds like a rough day.”

The detective nods absently. “It’s been up there, yeah.” He confirms, eyes downcast and tone still a little flat. “I mean, I _know_ it’s part of my job, I decided to become a detective _precisely_ to help others and stop crime, but…” he stops short for a second, holding his breath before releasing it in a sigh. “While out in the field, I don’t care. I _can’t_ care. There’s no space for anything other than my mission in my head. It _has_ to be like that, because if I fuck up people _die_ …”

Markus doesn’t say anything. Just listens to the other as he lets it all out, still holding onto his hands.

“But I _want_ to care. I mean… if I stop caring, what good am I to the people I’m supposed to protect?” Connor carries on, voice trembling just a little, “And sometimes it’s hard, but I can’t tell which is worse between feeling awful about the shit I see and feeling utterly detached from this shitty world, to the point that, sometimes, people stop being people to me, they become— numbers. Variables. _Elements_ to be assessed and brought to a result.” He finally looks up at his neighbour. “Sometimes I scare myself.”

“Oh, Connor…” Markus holds onto his hands tighter, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He assures, as softly as he can. “You’re not broken, and you’re not detached. You have a harsh, demanding job. You do something that not many people would be able to, and that makes you an amazing, strong person.”

Connor seems struck speechless for a moment. “I… thank you, Markus.”

“Hey, it’s the truth.” The other insists, giving his hands one last squeeze before raising one hand to clasp his shoulder. “And hey, the next time you feel so shitty that you need to punch things, knock on my door instead. We can crack open a cold one and talk about how messed up this shitty world is.”

It probably says something about Connor’s life how _that_ is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to him in a long while. It doesn’t make the smile that blossoms on his face any less genuine. “If you let me in your place to talk shit about society I might never get to leave.”

“That a promise?” is all the other says with a faint smirk while finally reaching to cut the pie.

They sit like that, eating and making conversation about everything and nothing until the chirping of dawn’s first few birds makes them realize –it’s four in the morning.

In the past few hours, Connor has learned that Markus is indeed an artist –he doesn’t use traditional oils that much, but drawing and painting are his favorite disciplines– and that he became one thanks to his step-father. He has a few pieces on display in a gallery in the city, and also occasionally does art therapy for children at the local hospital. It finally explains how Markus can get away with spending most nights awake –his artwork can be done from home at any hours, and art therapy sessions are usually in the afternoon since mornings are mostly reserved for medical procedures and the likes.

On the flipside, Markus has learned that Connor is still rather new in town, having been transferred just from August, and has a total of two friends –Hank and officer Miller, three if they count Hank’s dog Sumo— and one ‘frienemy’, Gavin Reed, who apparently is an asshole, but that sometimes will do like one half of a nice thing and _almost_ make you want to give him a chance.

But only almost.

“Shit, you probably wanna go to sleep.” Markus says, getting up from the couch followed by an almost reluctant Connor.

“It’s okay; I’m late shift tomorrow— well, today.”

They both chuckle at how much of a disaster they both are with their sleeping schedules. “Still.” His neighbour says, “I’ve bothered you long enough. I’ll see you around?”

Connor walks him to the door almost in a daze, before remembering: “Markus, your pie—”

“Keep it. You can bring the tray back whenever.” Markus assures, as usual. “Goodnight… or, well, good morning.”

“Good morning.” It’s impossible to keep the smile off his face. “And Markus?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

They both know Connor is not thanking him for the stupid pie, however good it tastes.

“Anytime.”

 

Things change slightly between them afterwards. They talk more, not only face to face, but through their shared walls as well –sometimes, when Connor would come back from a particularly draining shift and drag his feet heavily into his room, he’d hear a friendly yell of _“Welcome home!”_ from the other side of the wall, and it never fails to put a smile on his otherwise tired face.

Other times, if they both happen to have a day off at the same time, Connor will wake up to a knock against his wall and a _“Hey, I’m making pancakes, want me to bring some over?”_

It’s possibly the most social Connor has ever been, because he doesn’t _have_ to do anything. Markus will simply ask, from the distance their shared wall puts between them, and only come forward if the detective says yes. It’s comfortable, non-intrusive and makes him feel like someone actually cares about him.

His gigantic crush isn’t getting any better, and he’s long since stopped getting on Markus’ case about the sex noises –his neighbour and friend does always try his best to keep it down, after all– and started pestering about his choice of partners instead.

The phrase “You deserve better than a quick fuck” may or may not have left Connor’s mouth several times over during their chats.

It’s a noticeable enough change that people around him pick up on it.

“You know, you look much better, kiddo.” Hank tells him one day, while they’re filing paper at the precinct. “I take it you sorted things out with your asshole neighbour?”

“Oh? Oh, yeah.” He says, face brightening at the mere mention of Markus, “Turns out he’s not an asshole at all, he just thought the apartment next to him was empty. He’s been keeping it down ever since we spoke. He’s actually really nice.”

His c.o. looks at him with a curious expression. “Okay..?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No… no it’s just…” the Lieutenant seems to be trying to size him up, not unlike the way he did when they first met and he couldn’t quite get a measure on Connor, “Few weeks ago you were about to throw hands at this guy, and now you just made goo-goo eyes at the mere mention of him.”

Connor clears his voice and schools his expression back into his pristine and impassive professionalism. “That’s ridiculous, Hank, I didn’t do anything of the sort.” He says, fully aware that no one would buy it, “I merely stated facts.”

“…Right. What’s the dude’s name again?”

“Markus.”

Fuck, he can’t even say his name without smiling.

Hank noticed –of course he’d notice, he’s a cop. And a decorated officer, at that. “Yeah, no, not smitten at all.” He teases, with a friendly slap to the back of his shoulders, “Whatever makes you sleep at night kiddo.”

That’s the thing, though.

Markus does everything _except_ making him sleep at night.

He’s already… entertaining a guest when Connor comes back from his shift that evening, and it’s one of the energetic ones. The detective has time for a quick shower and slips his pjs on, and the two on the other side are still having their ‘fun’.

Then there’s a particularly harsh thump, one of those that rattle Connor’s bedframe slightly, and he hears Markus’ voice from his bedroom, even breathless as he is:

_“Ah, shit. Sorry, Connor!”_

This is more than a little surreal. “No big deal, Markus, just be careful!” he yells back, not stopping to ponder how fucking weird it is to have a conversation with someone who’s supposedly having sexual intercourse.

_“Yeah, will— oh, fuck— will do!”_

Scratch that, make that _definitely_ having intercourse.

Both the noises and the moaning turn down after that, but if he listens hard enough Connor can still hear _some_ sounds coming from Markus. As if he’s biting down on his lower lip to keep himself from being too loud.

How considerate, right? The tired part of his brain that just wants sleep agrees. The part of him that’s secretly been enjoying this whole thing ever since laying eyes on his gorgeous mess of a neighbour the first time has very different things to say about that.

Markus’ partner lets out a particularly drawn out moan that gets suddenly muffled. _“Fuck— ah— sorry again!”_

By now, Connor is just trying very hard not to think about the fact that Markus has likely clamped a hand over his current partner’s mouth, to talk to _him_ while he’s having sex.

“I-it’s okay!” he assures again, not even sure why he isn’t just keeping his mouth the fuck shut. “I don’t have to go out until two o’ clock tomorrow.”

_“That’s— mmm— good to hear.”_

Not as good as it is to hear you, Markus. Connor slams the brakes on that thought as hard as he can. Fuck, there _has_ to be a word for how goddamn messed up this is.

Of course there’s a word for it. _Voyeur_. He’s a creep that listens in on his neighbour having sex. Sure, Markus is sometimes loud as hell and basically enabling him, but still— Connor could invest in earplugs, or put on his earphones and blast heavy metal into his ears like he did for the first few days to drown out the sounds.

He hasn’t done that in quite a while.

The noises die down again, and the newfound silence makes the detective notice how hot his body has grown and where exactly most of said heat is located. He finds himself missing Markus’ moans when he can’t quite hear him go over the edge, then he realizes the direction his thoughts had just been taking and bolts upright faster than if he had a gun to his head.

Fuck, he really _is_ a creep.

Okay, time for a freezing shower.

Hopefully, the running water will also mask the sounds of Markus sweet-talking his goodbyes at his latest conquest.

It’s almost funny –Connor still hasn’t had any more action that his own two hands can give, and he _still_ feels he’s screwed.

Big time.


	3. Let's hear it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus' partners lessen in number and frequency.  
> Connor finds himself almost missing the noise.  
> In the silence, spur of the moment things happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly this was tasty. ♥
> 
> Idk what else to say, work was hell and I'm beat.
> 
> I hope y'all like this as much as I liked writing it. ♥
> 
> I love you all. ♥ ♥ ♥

Markus’ hook-up for the night doesn’t stay long after that, and Connor doesn’t hear the same person come back ever again –which is fair, he too would find it rude if someone he was having sex with had an entire conversation with their neighbour during intercourse.

It was kinda rude of _both_ of them.

Still, Markus doesn’t mention it, Connor doesn’t ask, and things keep going on as normal.

Better than normal even, the detective thinks: his neighbour is still as happy as ever even though his nightly adventures are getting fewer and farther in-between, to the point where finally every other day Connor can have a silent night’s sleep. Sometimes for two days in a row, even.

Strangely enough, Connor starts to notice that it takes him much, much longer to fall asleep on such nights –or at least it feels like it, without the muffled sounds from the other side of his wall to speed up the passage of time.

Refusing to think he's _that_ much of a pervert and can't sleep without his nightly fix of Markus, Connor rationalizes that he's simply a creature of habit and routine –which is true– and his body has just attuned to falling asleep under certain conditions.

Someone would argue that it's basically the same thing, only phrased in less incriminating terms, but Connor doesn't listen to such people.

Like Mrs. Stern and her stuck-up complaints for example.

"Can you believe the audacity?" She tells him when they chance upon each other one afternoon, "He had another girl over last night! I saw her leave this morning, her high heels made the most godawful noise..."

Good heavens, why did he have to offer her help with her groceries? Curse his natural officer instincts. "Really? I live right next to him and I didn't hear anything."

That's a lie, he heard everything up until he finally fell asleep, but he won't give this old hag the satisfaction; and he won’t give her any fodder to talk shit at the tenancy meetings that Markus never attends.

"You must have been really tired, dear..." Amanda comments, nose firmly turned up, "That young man is shameless. Simply shameless!"

Privately, Connor thinks Amanda is just salty because she lives upstairs from them, probably hasn't gotten any for the last 30 years and would like a piece of hot young neighbour herself.

He works for the DPD, he's pretty good at picking up on clues and he definitely doesn't like the way Mrs. Stern calls him _'dear'_ all the time. Hypocritical bitch.

Markus even teases him about it.

"Hey, if you're into that you could take one for the team and give _her_ some action!" He says between guffaws as they lean together outside their side-by-side windows with a beer and have a chat, "The whole building would be grateful to you!"

"Yeah, sorry but no." Connor says, only just managing not to drop his bottle as he lets out a disgusted sound. "Full gay over here. And even if I _was_ into ladies... I'm not into _that_."

Markus just laughs harder. "Fair enough."

What he doesn't say is that he's grateful that Connor would stand up for him, because he doesn't get many chances to speak for himself, and when he does happen upon his neighbors they keep their distance, as if they could catch something just by being near him -which is also bullshit, Connor has had front row seats to his nightly exploits for a while and knows how much of a stickler Markus actually is for protection and safety.

And really... being Markus' neighbour is not so bad, even with the noises: Connor has been eating better, he remembers to open his windows and air out the apartment when he hears Markus do it, and manages to socialize a bit, even if just with the man himself.

Having to hear him moan and gasp his nights through his countless encounters is a small price to pay by comparison –if at all, his lusting brain supplies.

 

Tonight is one of those quiet nights –he's getting ready for bed and just overheard Markus have a phone call with his brother that ended with tired, downright groggy goodnights. They seem to have a rocky relationship, but Connor can tell Markus cares.

Heh. Who _doesn't_ Markus care about?

He's such a compassionate individual, Connor is smiling just thinking about all the little things his neighbour does and says. The delicious smells that reach his nose on some mornings before he even opens the door, the quick smiles at one another going in or out, the funny conversations from window to window while doing chores… the quiet times Markus comes over with an excuse and silently holds his hand while caressing the nape of his neck with the other, whenever he has a particularly dreadful shift.

Just the memory of Markus’ skin against his own is enough to make him close his eyes and retrace the path his neighbour’s hand would take.

He doesn't realize he's been running his hand lower down his chest until it brushes the waistband of his boxers and he freezes.

No. Even though he's been perving on his impossibly beautiful neighbour for the better part of two months now, there are lines. There’s having a crush, and then there’s being a full-on creep.

And yet, he doesn't move to stop. He just stays perfectly still in the darkness of his own room with baited breath –as if waiting for the silence to be filled with slow, sensual sounds from the other side.

When none come, Connor starts imagining the ones that would.

Would Markus be pounding someone into the mattress and make them scream his name, or would _he_ be the one getting fucked so hard Connor's bedframe rattled to the rhythm?

His hand slips past his underwear to palm himself long before his mind can catch onto to how fucked up this is.

Connor is not as loud as Markus is, he barely lets out his breath in short, quiet gasps as he starts working his shaft up and down, still thinking about what sort of noises Markus would be making, taken to the edge and over by one of his faceless, nameless partners.

Maybe they'd knock down the lamp by the nightstand again, and Markus would apologise to Connor in the breathy, slightly rasped tone he gets whenever someone is really good to him.

He starts moving faster, dropping his hand lower to cup at his balls before picking up the pace.

And then Connor's name would be the one on Markus' lips as he comes undone.

He can feel the pressure build up in his chest as if it was actually happening. His breath grows heavy and his lips part before his mind can shout at them not to:

"Markus..." it's quiet at first, but once the gates are open it becomes impossible for Connor to just stop. "Markus..."

_"Connor?"_

His blood nearly freezes in his veins— by all intents and purposes, the sheer mortification alone should have been enough to kill his arousal and send him hiding under the covers; and instead here he is, still hard and getting close even as he holds his breath, lying perfectly motionless as he waits to see whether Markus has noticed that he was jacking off to him or not.

 _"Connor, are you... ok?"_ Markus doesn't need to raise his voice too much, wall-to-wall as they are right now and in the dead silence of the night.

Cock still in hand, Connor doesn't know what possesses him to answer. "Yeah. Yeah, I-- I'm ok." This is fine, right? Markus himself did it that one time; he was having sex and just kept talking... Connor is simply acting like he would.

 _"Can't sleep?"_ He wasn't expecting his neighbour to want to continue talking, though.

"I— yes..."

This is perfectly normal for them, they're not crossing a line at all and things will not be awkward in the slightest between them.

If Connor repeats it enough times in his mind, he may actually believe it.

 _"Thinking of me?"_ The lower octave makes it very clear that yes, Markus has heard the broken call of his name and yes, he realized what Connor has been up to.

Found and with nowhere to go but deep into his rabbit hole of lust and fantasies, the detective closes his eyes and starts moving again. "...yes..."

Something shuffles on the other side of the wall and Connor has to fight back a shiver at the idea of Markus getting comfortable for this. He chokes back a cry when he hears his neighbour's next words:

 _"...missing my voice?"_ Markus asks, to the sound of more rustling fabric, _"Or were you thinking about shutting me up by giving my mouth something_ else _to do?"_

" _Fuck_ , Markus..." Any thought about faceless, nameless partners of one night vanishes –the detective places himself in every memory.

 _"Not yet, Connor..."_ his neighbour's voice goes just as breathy as he was imagining it, and holy shit Connor almost loses it merely upon hearing his name called like that, _"Don't you always say I can do better than a quick fuck? I'd love to take my time with you..."_

"Of course you would, you fucking tease..."

Connor is quite lost in his own pleasure, but not so much that he misses the stuttered gasp coming from Markus' side of the wall.

This is happening.

They're having wall-to-wall sex right now.

"Are you touching yourself, Markus?"

 _"Mm..."_ unlike him, the other doesn't stop and doesn't hesitate: _"Yeah..."_

Shameless. Utterly shameless in the best of ways, Connor thinks as he licks his lips, fire shooting down his spine at the sounds that Markus does nothing to hide.

" _Fuck_ , the things your voice does to me..."

 _"Do you wanna hear me cry out for you, Connor?"_ At this point, neither of them is even trying to pretend like they're not actually doing this and Markus just lets it all go. _"Or maybe— ah— you'll decide to treat me... to the sound of_ your _voice..."_

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He's not going to last much longer if Markus keeps talking to him in broken moans like that.

 _"It doesn't become you to be wound up all the time."_ Comes from the other side, the urgency in his neighbour's voice suggesting that he's also picked up the speed and contrasting with his earlier claim, _"Come on, Connor, let it all go for me..."_ yep. Definitely _not_ taking his time, not tonight.

"Fuck, _Markus_... "

The detective would probably be more ashamed of moaning out someone's name that loudly, even in his own bedroom, if only his neighbour hadn't gotten him used to the occurrence. They keep going like that, relishing in the sound of each other's pleasure until it reaches the highest point before crashing down.

Connor comes first, with his eyes closed and Markus' name on his lips.

He listens on as Markus brings himself to completion, chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he comes back from his orgasm.

Markus' chuckle, moments after he comes apart in gasps and groans, still sounds incredibly erotic to Connor's ears.

_"...Wow."_

The detective nods at the empty space before him. "...Yup."

_"Better?"_

This time Connor is the one who can't hold back the laughter. "Much better."

 _"Good."_ Markus comments from the other side of the wall, and the other can practically hear the kindness in his voice -it should be illegal to be so sweet after the filthy display he just pulled. _"Goodnight, Connor."_

But as things are now, Connor simply feels blissfully sated, and he lets his eyes drift closed with a smile. "Goodnight, Markus."

 

It's only when he wakes up five hours later, in dire need of a shower and with stained boxers, that the detective recalls exactly what happened the night before and realizes it wasn't just a dream.

"Oh, shit."

Surprisingly enough, his first feeling is not shame: the first thing his mind registers is apprehension. Will things between him and Markus change, now? Will his beautiful neighbour get bored of him, now that he got the prim and proper detective to go and masturbate for him, complete with calls of his name that would give his usual hook-ups a run for their money?

His rational brain tells him that Markus is not that kind of guy -all his one-night-stands always know beforehand that it's only going to be one night, and even his recurring partners know exactly where Markus' boundaries lie... he wouldn't give Connor any less than that, last night just... happened.

It was a spur of the moment thing, most likely for Markus as well. And if their very first meeting taught Connor anything, his neighbour is probably mildly freaking out about having overstepped as well.

Shame only sinks in after he's showered and dressed for Connor, and it's not even about the night itself: what if the woman who lives next door to him on the other side heard _him_?!

Shit, he'd never live it down.

Moaning like a bitch and not even getting properly fucked yet. Pathetic.

He would have spent the entirety of the time left before he had to get ready for work overthinking everything, if it hadn’t been for the subject of his worry himself:

_“Connor? You awake? Wanna grab some toast together?”_

Markus sounds ever so slightly insecure, but not too terribly different from their usual. It’s— comforting, that he’d still like to keep their daily routine of sorts.

Almost anticlimactic. But hey, Connor is not gonna be the one complaining; and he only hesitates a few seconds: “Uh, yeah, of course!” he calls out, already feeling the corners of his lips pull upwards, “What would I do without you to feed me?”

The answer doesn’t arrive until Markus lets himself in— they’ve long gotten into the habit of unlocking the door for one another before they even reach the door.

“For the record…” Markus says, closing the door by hitting it with his hip since both his hands are full, “Without me to feed you, you’d just eat shitty take-away and end up with hypercholesterolemia.”

“He says, while bringing me ham and cheese toast.” Connor can’t help but jab, eyeing the accompanying plate of scrambled eggs.

His neighbour doesn’t seem deterred, looking unfairly cute even in those stupid turtle-themed pyjamas. “Shut up. I spend 20 hours a week in a hospital. _And_ I take care of my father when I go to visit him. I _know_ how to balance a diet.”

Oh, right, Markus’ father –‘Carl’. Not 100% blood related, but just about as close as the real thing. From what little Connor has managed to pull out of the other, Carl is quite late in his years and needs all the assistance he can get. Privately, the detective thinks Markus couldn’t possibly get any sweeter with all the love he gives… well, everyone.

His step-father, children at the hospital, his moody step-brother, even his many hook-ups get some form of ‘love’…

…and now him, too, apparently.

“Markus… about last night—” this is a terrible idea. He doesn’t even know where to begin… how do you tell the hot neighbour who’s slowly becoming your best friend that you’ve also been dreaming about fucking him and just jacked off to the thought of what sounds he’d make?

“Oh, that. Did you manage to get a good night’s sleep, after?”

 _Wait, what?_ Connor’s mind draws a blank.  “Wait, what?”

Markus suddenly turns bashful. Mismatched eyes lower and can’t seem to meet Connor’s for the life of them. “I… I hope I didn’t cross any lines, but I woke up to the sound of… well…” it’s almost cute the way he reverts back to a panicked mess, now that they’re face to face. “It sounded like you needed to unwind a bit. And, uh… I guess it’s fair, with all the times I keep you up.”

Connor almost lets Markus’ contagious little grin make him smile, too, but then he catches the implications of such a thought. “Oh, Markus, no…” he shoves his plate of toast aside in favor of grabbing both of his neighbour’s hands, “What I did last night was rude and intrusive, and you’ve been… way nicer than I deserved, to indulge me like you did.”

That seems to restore at least a bit of confidence into Markus –the tentative grin turns into a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t also enjoy myself while helping you ease out some tension.”

The knowledge that it’s overplayed gives Connor the strength not to melt under the sly gaze. “Still.” He protests gently, “I never want you to think that it’s okay for me, or anyone else for the matter, to use you.”

After all, it’s not like the fact that Markus also enjoyed it counts as liking Connor back –however bad it sounds, his neighbour has the bar set pretty low, whatever his reasons, so to Markus this might as well just be yet another friends-with-benefits situation.

Looking back down at his hands still held closely in Connor’s, Markus sighs. “Look, if it made you uncomfortable, just say the word and I’ll never say anything about it ever again.”

“That’s not what I meant, Markus… I started it, come on.”

Connor really kinda hopes the other won’t insist too much on this point, lest he confesses his embarrassingly gargantuan crush by accident. A few beats of silence go by until Markus shrugs his shoulders a little, almost as if in an attempt to make himself smaller.

“How about we take this at face value, then?” he proposes, tone going towards his usual low and velvet but still mostly on the innocent side. “You wanted to, I wanted to, it happened. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends anymore.”

“True.” They’re both adults, after all. And Connor can live with this.

At least now he can watch hungrily the way Markus catches his lower lip between his teeth without having to hide it.

“And hey… if you ever find yourself lonely and bothered again…” shit, he’s not proposing what Connor _thinks_ he’s proposing, is he? “…Feel free to give a couple knocks at my wall and I’ll be happy to keep you company again.”

Holy _shit,_ he is.

On one hand, this is so out of Connor’s depth that he feels like he could drown in awkwardness if he so much as opens his mouth again; on the other hand… Markus is _offering_ , so that must mean that he at least likes Connor enough to feel physical attraction for him, right?

Funny how a couple weeks ago that would have been enough and the detective would have catapulted himself into Markus’ bed, but now that they’re closer friends… he wants more— he wants it all.

But he won’t ask Markus to give up his polyamorous habits, it isn’t Connor’s choice to make and it’s a big part of someone life to take away. He tries not to let the thought sour his smile as he nods –he can take what Markus is willing to give and be grateful for it. “I’ll remember that. Thank you, Markus.”

“You thank me as if I didn’t have a good time myself.” his neighbour is smiling at him and teasing again –but this time is a little more genuine, he’s not trying to supercharge his sex appeal, rather he keeps his voice playful, which is just as well: over the last month, they’ve seen each other at their most embarrassing several times, and Connor will forever treasure the day he crossed Markus coming back from an art therapy session that was apparently about snowy landscape with rather ambiguous white stains all over his jeans and, tired as he was, just glared at the detective and said “ _Don’t._ It’s just fucking _paint._ ”

Good times.

It’s easy to dissolve into laughter at those memories, and by the time they finish their breakfast everything is like it’s always been… just with one more guilty pleasure for Connor to remember as he heads out.

Though he’s probably still going to ask for advice to his commanding officer –before meeting Markus, Hank was the closest to what Connor could call a friend, and as a result of that some of their conversations have been more than a little awkward.

 

"Kid, how can I give you advice if you don't tell me what happened?" Hank is understandably frustrated with his partner. They've been reviewing evidence and witness accounts on a case that took them almost two weeks to crack, and Connor was spacing out –which is unheard of, from Mr. 'I-always-accomplish-my-mission', so the Lieutenant asked him what was wrong...

Big, big mistake.

Of course it'd be about the kid's hot neighbour -which Hank is still sceptical about because, really, how attractive can someone be to make such a mess of a grown-ass man?

"Trust me, Lieutenant; you don't really want to know what happened."

"Why? The two of you banged or something?"

Connor isn't looking at him in the eyes. "No, we didn't... and that's kinda the point..?"

What.

"I still don't follow."

Of course he doesn't, it's hard to explain the situation if one wants to keep a secret the fact that they masturbated to the sound of each other's voice with a wall between them. "Well... we've gotten a bit closer." He tries, knowing Hank won't ask for details, "But if we were to go into anything more, I'd want it to be exclusive, and I'm not sure that Markus would want the same."

"...Fuck, I'm way too old to be a gay love consultant."

A scoff to their right interrupts whatever response was forming on Connor's mouth:

" _Fuck's sake_ you're a gay disaster." The detective is just about to tell Reed exactly what he thinks about him using sexuality as an insult, but Gavin's next words practically floor him. "You should just bang this dude and get it over with! Blow his mind, show him a good enough time that no matter who he brings home for the next fucking month, he's _still_ only gonna be thinking about you."

There's a poignant pause after that. Did Gavin Reed, resident asshole and the person who didn't bother learning Connor's name for his entire first month with the DPD in favor of just calling him 'dipshit', just give him _relationship advice_?

Decent advice, even.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this, but I agree with Reed." Hank is just as surprised as Connor is at pronouncing those exact words.

"I... it's a bit more complicated than that." Mostly it's still the paranoid dread stemming from the idea that Markus would lose interest once they have sex, a fear that Connor still can't quite shake, no matter how good their friendship with newly acquired benefits is. "But I'll think on that. Thanks, detective Reed."

Gavin makes a face at him. " _Don't_ thank me. It's just annoying to listen to your pining ass."

"Whatever you say, detective Reed." Connor can't really help the small smirk blossoming on his face -it's okay, Gavin, we won't tell anyone you have at least half a conscience.

"Alright smartass, let's see this dude, then."

"Beg pardon?"

"If he's _that_ much of a sex god, you want me to believe you haven't taken at least one creepshot of him?"

It's a fair question, they are neighbours after all and Connor has probably sounded enamoured enough to make a complete ass out of himself already. Still, he takes out his phone. "This is where 'careful what you wish for' comes to mind as a phrase." He says smugly, anticipating his colleague's reaction. "We've actually taken drunk selfies window to window, once."

The photo he shows on the screen is a selfie of Markus leaning out of his window in the foreground, with his smile as bright as sunshine and his eyes catching all the attention, cheeks ever so slightly flushed by his tipsy state –in the background, a wild Connor can be seen leaning out his window as well, arms flailing madly enough to be blurred and apparently laughing his heart out.

Reed's eyebrows shoot up. "You sure you're not already dating?"

"I would know if I was dating someone, don't you think?"

"That depends; you're enough of a dork that if anyone was dating someone without knowing, it'd be you."

Not even Hank defends his honor. "He's got a point there, kiddo."

"I hate all of you."

The Lieutenant just chuckles and reaches out to ruffle Connor's hair, while Gavin chances another look at the other's phone. "I have to say, though. _Damn_." He comments, "If you’re not planning to jump on that anytime soon, give me his number."

Connor's first instinct is to growl at the other detective to back the fuck off, but he valiantly pushes it down in favor of a more composed response: "Sorry, detective Reed, you have to _have_ a soul in the first place, to get it fucked out of you by a guy like Markus."

"Haha, fuck you too."

The historical milestone that is Gavin Reed engaging in friendly banter with Connor is interrupted by a familiar voice at the department's door.

"Connor, dear, I'm positively distraught!" Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the detective straight up hides behind Hank.

"Uh... ma'am? What seems to be the problem?" Gavin is already contemplating to strangle whoever let a civilian just come into the office, but if the way she barged in past Miller is any indication, it's the type of woman who doesn't take no for an answer.

"My purse was stolen!" Reed exchanges a glance with Hank at that. With how agitated this lady is acting you'd think someone had shanked her whole family before her eyes. "Where is Connor, I need to file a report and he knows me already, it will be much faster to fill in all my details..."

It doesn't take a detective to fill in the blanks between Connor's frantic hiding and the _cougar's_ insistence. Gavin holds back a snort and manages surprisingly well to meet her with a straight face.

"I understand ma'am, but you're in the wrong place for that—"

"This is a _police station_ , is it not?" Mrs Stern interrupts matter-of-factly, "I'm here to report a _crime_."

Nice try, but no dice. "Yes, ma'am, precisely: this _is_ a police station, _not_ a department store. You cannot pick and choose an assistant." He clarifies as politely as he can manage, "This is the homicide division, and it's technically a restricted area. To report a theft you need to go back out this corridor, third door to the right."

Mrs Stern fixes a hard stare on Gavin, as if looking at him in disdain would magically change the rules, but after a good few seconds of nothing she just huffs. " _Fine_."

She just turns tail and goes, ignoring Gavin's quite ironic “Have a good day, ma’am!”

Connor’s sigh of relief is big enough to overtake Hank’s laughter, and Reed crosses his arms with a smirk. “I’d take the chance and say you owe me for this, but I honestly wouldn’t wish _that_ on my worst enemy.” He remarks, turning to go back to his desk and _maybe_ getting some work done, “So consider this one a _freebie_.”

“Hopefully at least they’ll find whoever got her purse, or she’ll be insufferable until then.”

“Eh, I’m sure that once she takes off the coat she was hiding her purse under she’ll find it.” Hank was obscuring the younger detective’s line of sight, but he saw it well –the lady hid her own purse just to have an excuse to come here and bother Connor. Talk about insistent.

Here’s to hoping the rest of their shift passes without any more visits from ‘Cruella De Ville remastered’.

 

 

Markus kept a smile on his face for the whole morning and is still smiling by the time he reaches the paediatrics department in the afternoon.

“Hello, there.” Josh greets him as they run into each other, “And who did you hook up with to leave such a big smile on your face?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, Josh.”

There’s a few second in which the paediatrician just stares at his friend with a deadpan look. “Dude.” He starts, “I’ve gotten first recounting of all your one night stands since college. I have _been_ one of your one night stands. Come on.”

Markus just laughs and shakes his head, gaze losing itself slightly forward.

Josh’s eyes widen considerably. “Don’t tell me— you finally got your hands on your hot cop neighbour?”

“Keep it down!” the other hisses, nearly smacking him with his art supply bag, “And no, I told you, he… he isn’t the one-night-stand type. He isn’t like me.”

His doctor friend smacks him on the shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Don’t say that.” Is all Josh offers as an explanation. “Don’t _ever_ think that being ‘like you’ is in any way shape or form shameful or bad. I’ve known you for years. You only ever do things in a safe, adult and consensual environment, take more health and safety precautions than anyone I’ve ever known and always make sure every person you bring home knows exactly what they’re in for. You’re a _good_ person, Markus. Just because you enjoy having different and frequent partners it doesn’t mean you have less value than others.”

These are all things that Markus knows, but it’s still good to hear them said to his face every once in a while. “Thanks, Josh.” He says as they walk along towards the appointed therapy room, “Still… it would be unfair of me to ask him to get involved if I can’t give him the exclusivity he wants. I can’t do that to him.”

“Sounds to me like you have a pretty obvious course of action ahead of you.” Josh comments, “If you two keep getting closer and you eventually start feeling like your usual habits do not compare to the idea of being with him and him alone… that’s gonna mean you’re in love, dude.”

“…Love, huh?” A knowing smile stretches on Markus’ lips. “Do you really think that, or are you feeling romantic because you’ve started going steady with Simon and Daniel?” he asks in a chuckle, “Congrats, by the way. I can’t think of a better person to take care of the cinnamon roll twins.”

“Hey. I do mean that. And you know I’m right.”

Their whole relationship started when Josh, who was visiting Simon at his and his brother’s apartment, mistook Daniel for his twin and kissed him in greeting. By his side, Simon just started laughing and told his brother to please give back his boyfriend in time for dinner. Josh was flabbergasted and apologized profusely, but Simon assured him that he didn’t mind, and that Daniel had secretly liked him for a long time… apparently, good brothers know how to share. So Simon and Daniel take turns by Josh’s side, and it’s been a thing for a while, even though, at least for Markus, it was only official yesterday afternoon, when Simon called him to tell him he wouldn’t be up to casual sex together anymore since he’d be ‘going steady’ with Josh.

Which led to a night quiet enough that he was able to hear Connor jerking off to him.

Flattering, though possibly predictable –his poor neighbour has been subjected to the sounds of him having sex often enough for it to be considered subliminal messaging at this point.

“Wait, something _did_ happen!”

Shit, he’s been spacing out too long. “Well, we didn’t hook up. That much is true.”

Josh knows him well enough to be able to tell when he’s lying, and squints at him when he sees he’s not, not about that. “You know, I could tell North and have _her_ pull the truth outta you.”

“Would you look at that? We’re here, it’s best if we drop this, we have fifteen children to take care of!”

Before his doctor friend can chastise him for using such a cheap escape tactic, Markus opens the door to the therapy room and several children look up in delight, some even running up to him and calling his name loudly.

It’s entirely too cute a scene to be mad at him, and Josh just shakes his head, making himself comfortable in the corner he’ll supervise from. “Fine, but I’m not done with you.”

“Duly noted.” Markus assures with a laugh, turning to face the children just in time to pick up a little girl who was running towards his legs and lift her up. “Hello there, my little Alice in Wonderland.” He says, cradling her close before addressing all his charges, “Who’s ready for some art?”

Markus’ day goes pretty well after that. The kids love him and love the fact that he lets them get dirty; Alice is recovering well –he won’t admit to having favourites, but he kinda does. The whole year has been hard on Kara _and_ little Alice herself, it’s been good news to hear that her treatment is working and she’ll make a full recovery. No child that tiny should suffer through such scary illnesses… but here he just was with a roomful of them.

He would die for every single one of them. He comes home tired and covered in paint as usual, but he’s not displeased to bump into Connor, apparently just back from his shift as well.

“Wow, you look like you’ve been dropped in a vat of crayon ink.”

“And you’re a vision, as always.” Markus rolls his eyes as he retorts, but the tell-tale grin is there already.

"Why thank you." Connor says, in a perfect mockery of Mrs Stern's tone every time he helps her with her bags, "You're such a _dear_."

"Pff, don't let her hear you or she'll get mad at me for corrupting you!"

They both laugh heartily at the idea of the grumpy lady from upstairs getting mad like an angry schoolmistress. Which, honestly, isn't too far-fetched. Lucky for them they're adults and neither of them is related to her in any way, shape or form, so they don't have to listen even to one word she says.

"Is it really that bad?" Connor asks, giggles still dying down.

"Oh, yeah." Markus nods with a fake solemn expression, "Spend half an hour in my apartment and you'll turn into a _deviant_ like me!"

"Wait, did she actually call you a 'deviant'?"

The painter seems strangely proud of that. "To my face."

"Holy shit. I'm never helping her with groceries ever again."

Connor's outrage prompts the other to place an affectionate hand on his shoulder. "I appreciate the thought, but she's fifty-six and with a bad back." He says softly, shaking his head, "She's a bitch, but there's far worse people around."

The detective almost can't believe his ears. " _God_ , this world doesn't deserve you."

Markus doesn't say anything to that, accepting the compliment with a shrug and a slightly bashful look to the side.

Connor has the time to think how true that actually is -how had he ever thought Markus could be an asshole just because he's used to having loud sex? This man is possibly the person with the biggest heart he ever met, with a good word for everyone, even the colossal bitch who wants him evicted on intolerance alone.

Eventually, Markus drops his hand and clears his voice. "So... plans for tonight?"

"Ah, I'll probably just heat up that half quiche thing that you gave me and collapse." The detective confesses, running a tired hand behind his neck, "It's been one of those days. You?"

"Well... showering all of this off, for one." Markus gestures to the paint covering him pretty much everywhere, "Then... I might have a friend over."

Connor studiously doesn't miss a beat. "Oh, good! It's been a while, no?"

"Yeah, well..." Markus know what the detective is doing, and he's grateful -his attempt at playing it cool is valiant and actually quite convincing... but he knows Connor can't really wrap his mind around sleeping with semi-strangers so casually, and, really, it's ok, he knows it's not everyone's cup of tea. "I'll try and keep it down."

Still, it's refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't try to 'fix him' at every turn.

"Nah, I think we're pretty much past that." Connor assures, the only indicator that he's at all self-conscious about his words being the slight dusting over of his cheeks, "If anything, your voice will lull me to sweet dreams."

The detective seems to realize his own words belatedly and quickly flees into his own apartment, while Markus is left there speechless, completely taken off guard by a teasing remark and a wink.

_Fuck, that was hot._

He doesn't even contemplate the possibility of something changing within him until his acquaintance leaves, later that night, and he goes back to bed with the realization that he got off more on the idea of _Connor_ being on the other side and _listening_ than on the _actual_ sex he just had.

Absently running a hand over his chest, he feels it do a strange flip over the thought.

He might be in trouble –shit, Josh is gonna be so smug about this.


	4. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can’t help but think… that he deserves someone better.”
> 
> That is too much. Embarrassment be damned, Connor barges in.
> 
> “Better than you?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYOOOOO.  
> We finally wrapped up this too!
> 
> Happy endings all around! That's what i do! ♥
> 
> (Psst. If you liked the part where Markus beats it off to Connor in his bedroom, you have RebelMage to thank for that. My sweetness wanted some solo time and I did my best to provide ♥ ♥ ♥)
> 
> As per usual, it doesn't really feel like writing, it feels like the chapter kicks my ass and comes out kcking and screaming.  
> Idek, just take it ♥

It happens gradually enough that Connor doesn't notice the new routine of sorts sneaking up on him.

He and Markus keep chatting over open windows and homemade dishes, hanging out on the rare occasions the detective's schedule allows it... but sometimes, in the dead of night, one of them will knock a couple times on the other's wall.

All it takes then is a simple back and forth:

_"Can't sleep?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Thinking of me?"_

What generally happens after is very predictable.

They have never even kissed, and yet Connor feels he has a more intimate relationship with Markus than anyone he ever met before. It might also be because of the things they share whenever either of them would come back from a particularly hard day –the other always notices, and it usually ends up with them curled up together and talking things out in whispers, either on Connor's pristine couch or on Markus' paint speckled one.

But, to be completely honest, that is not what he thinks about when he leans his head against his bedroom wall, holding himself in his hand and listening as Markus moans and gasps his name from the other side.

_"Ah— Connor— I'm close..."_

"Me too, Markus..." he hears his neighbour come undone as he has plenty of times by now, but this time Markus had been fingering himself and felt the need to let Connor know he was thinking of him. It immediately got him going, and now Connor is stroking himself to the edge and over, as he hears Markus come down from his orgasm in shallow breaths.

 _God_ , the idea alone of fucking Markus is enough to make him almost scream into his climax –not that the idea of being on the receiving end of what made so many people unable to keep it down is any less appealing...

Coming to think of it, Markus hasn't had any guests in a while. At least three weeks, possibly four.

It almost feels like they're _going steady_ –if only it wasn't for the fact that they never started dating in the first place.

They're not even friends with benefits, not really... everything sexual that ever happens between them is wall to wall, never direct... neither of them ever really addressed the issue, Markus sometimes talks about it but just treats it as something normal between them, an apology about keeping Connor up here, or a casual mention he'd be awake until late if Connor needs anything there.

The detective wishes he was as confident about it as Markus seems. He wishes it could be… enough for him, too. But he’s greedy. He wants Markus, and he wants him _all_ to himself.

He's reviewing evidence from their latest case, chin resting on one hand as he disinterestedly holds a cup of coffee in the other, when his commanding officer nearly makes him jump:

"Okay, kid, out with it. What the fuck is going on?"

Connor looks from Hank to the files in front of him and back. He's been reading the same page for the better part of half an hour.

He clears his voice. "Nothing. I guess this case just got me stressed out."

Right. The case he almost _singlehandedly_ cracked, finding the murder weapon hidden in a hole the perpetrator had dug in his wall with incriminating dna still on it, to the point that a confession was almost a formality and all they needed to do now was get their shit in order to pass on to the courthouse for trial.

The Lieutenant is unimpressed. "Yeah, right." He grumbles, " _Now_ I know something really is up. You're usually a much better liar than that."

"Knowing him, it's probably about the hot neighbour he _still_ hasn't got the balls to ask out."

"Well, fuck you too, Reed. No one asked _you_." Connor snaps at him almost immediately and feels... kinda glad for the distraction. Not that he'd ever tell Gavin, but their usual trading of barbs, however irksome, is at least something 'normal', to take his mind off his own romantic turmoil.

He really does have a thing with routine... damn it.

Markus teases him about it too, saying that he'd schedule his own bathroom breaks if only he could.

Or make a timeslot for their nightly wall-to-wall _'sessions'_.

Shit, now he's thinking about it again.

"Hey! You still on planet Earth?"

"Sir yes, sir!" Okay, apparently he falls back on ingrained trainee responses when caught daydreaming.

Hank chuckles and ruffles his hair, much to his chagrin— he does slap the Lieutenant's hand away, but neither his gaze nor his tone are nearly as angry as he'd like to pretend to.

"I don't take kindly to being patronized."

"I'm old enough to be your old man; I'll patronize you however damn well much I please." Hank is only half joking and Connor knows it.

He takes the blatant bait anyway, with a smile that knows it's all in good fun, but that allows for a slightly dangerous edge all the same. "Hank... commanding officer or not, I _will_ kick your ass."

Against what one would have normally predicted, detective Reed doesn’t join in on the teasing: "Yikes. That's your cue to dial it back, Hank."

Anyone listening would have bet good money on Gavin trying to undermine Connor's capabilities... but as it just so happens, Reed has first-hand experience on exactly how good the younger detective can make on his threats: back when Connor first transferred, Gavin went out of his way to try and bully him into submission –he tried de-escalating with words for as long as his patience let him, but when Reed eventually punched him in the chest for his sarcastic retorts, Connor grabbed the offending fist and... the rest was a bit of a blur, but by the time Connor was done with him and they were both in Fowler's office for a disciplinary hearing, Gavin had a black eye, a busted lip and the feeling of several bruises forming along his whole body.

It's the reason he kept the un-pleasantries at words after that, expressing his disdain for the other from afar, until—

...until _what_ , exactly?

Connor struggles at pinpointing when exactly Gavin became a halfway decent person...the most remarkable episode has been the time they were talking about Markus.

He smiles privately at the notion –leave it to his neighbour to be able to change for the better even people he has never met.

"Can I just review and submit these files in peace?" He simply asks, plea dripping with sarcasm in his following words: " _Pretty please_?"

Hank shakes his head. "Sorry but that's gonna have to wait. We're being called to a crime scene."

Connor immediately shoots up from his seat, daze lifting pretty damn fast as he scrambles to close his files and get his things. “What?! When were you planning to tell me?!”

Hank gets one last laugh at him, but to his credit he does help the younger detective gather whatever’s left to be ready and go. “Relax, kiddo, just trying to help get your head back in the game before we head out.”

“That is a lie and we both know it, you just like to watch me squirm.”

“You mean Mr. _‘I always accomplish my mission’_ does something as human as get _nervous_?”

“Have I already said that I hate all of you?” Not very credible if said with a smile, but hey. It’s better than when he used to just isolate himself all the time.

He has Markus to thank for that, too –he wonders, not for the first time, if _he’s_ been any good for the other or if he’s just been mooching off his neighbour’s disarming positivity so far.

 

Personally, Markus would call bullshit.

Connor has been making him better in a _million_ ways, he just doesn’t know because they don’t involve things like taking better care of your eating habits or socializing more –if anything, Markus already socializes way too much… which Connor helped him remedy.

He’ll be the first one to be proud and content with his healthy acceptance of his needs and his usually crowded sex life –like his friends often remind him, as long as everyone involved is _consenting_ and _safe_ , there’s nothing wrong with exploring possibilities… but it’s also true that lately he had taken to changing loves as he changed socks, partly because none of his ‘adventures’ seemed to satisfy him for more than a couple days at a time. Unless the person before him was someone new and exciting, even the highest intimacy felt… dull.

Then, out of seemingly thin air, in comes Connor. Guarded, distant, maybe a little bit awkward, but so, so intense. Passionate, in every little thing he does, and not at all needing to take his clothes off to get close...

It threw Markus for a loop, especially the very first night he ended up on the listening side and suddenly heard Connor call _his_ name… he was completely unprepared for how much it would affect him, and it soon became intoxicating.

He’s been whittling down his list of casual contacts, and hasn’t called anyone to have a one-night stand with in four weeks; he hasn’t felt the _need_ to.

Of course, any visitors he receives, even during daytime, keep adding to his reputation of the apartment building whore, courtesy of Mrs. Stern’s spiteful assumptions –Markus really has no idea why the old lady is so fixated on giving him a hard time; it can’t be just for the noise, it doesn’t carry _that_ much from floor to floor… coming to think of it, she’s unpleasant to everyone except Connor, and he suspects it’s simply because Connor indulges her and the old cougar enjoys the attention all too much.

He shakes his head to himself.

“So, how does that look? We good?” he asks, holding the flashlight up while his brother did… whatever it is that technically-gifted people do to repair broken things.

Leo comes back out from the dryer he was leaning into and clicks his tongue. “Looks good enough, Mark.” He says, wiping his hands, “You really need to start remembering cleaning your filter, it was chock-full of crusted paint and brush hairs.”

“But then how would I have an excuse to get you to hang out with me?” Markus teases, but he will admit to somewhat neglecting the state of some home appliances just so he can call his tech-savvy half-brother. They have little to nothing in common, and Markus never quite knows what to say to him.

“Dude… you do know you can just call me to hang out…” Leo sounds uncertain even to his own ears, “…do you?”

Fuck, this is all kinds of awkward. Markus is much better at texting or talking on the phone. “I guess…” he shrugs, “It’s just… I know you don’t give a shit about painting, or art, and I can be a bit… one-track minded…”

It may or may not be an understatement, considering his living room has mostly been turned into a studio, not even the piano in the corner has survived the onslaught and paint speckles dot it here and there. Leo’s eyes follow Markus’ around the apartment, and he shakes his head with a chuckle,

“Hey. I may not give a shit about art, but I _do_ care about my brother.” He says, moving to the side to bump shoulders with Markus, “Even if sometimes I’m an ass about it. And hey, we’ve got things we can chat about! You can give me pointers on picking up girls, and I can be your listening ear about the hot cop you _still_ haven’t scored with.”

“Hey, fuck off!” Markus pushes his brother away in mock offense, “I told you, it’s more than just that.”

“Which is why you’re scared shitless?”

A bit too blunt, maybe, but not wrong.

“Hey! Way to make me feel better!” Markus laughs along with Leo, even as it dissolves into a sigh in his chest. He does know Leo only means it in good humor. Mostly. Their relationship is mostly sass, disagreements about their father’s priorities and the occasional peaceful moment, but… they do care deeply for each other, and Markus knows that. “It’s getting late… I’ll walk you down, come on.”

Coming to think of it, it’s another thing Connor has unknowingly helped Markus with: before, he tended to take for granted that his brother’s barbs were outright hostile, now he’s come to realize that Leo shields himself behind his quips because, most of the time, he doesn’t really know how else to express his feelings.

‘Birds of a feather’, one would say.

 

He’s still smiling as he watches Leo drive off, and was about to go back inside when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a familiar figure coming through the entrance.

Unpleasantly familiar, but also visibly struggling –Connor seems to have been held up at work today and isn’t here to be the appointed white knight.

Markus actually spends a couple seconds pondering whether it’s a good idea to approach or not.

 “Mrs. Stern!” He calls, having made his choice, “Mrs. Stern, please, let me help.”

Concentrated as she was with dragging her heavy shopping trolley in, Amanda didn’t really notice who exactly was offering their help. “Oh, thank you dearie, I—”

She freezes minutely when she sees Markus getting a good hold on the trolley, filled as it is with bags of compost for all her plants, and earnestly offers his free arm to relieve her of the bag containing her actual groceries as well. It’s like the temperature in the building drops.

“—oh, it’s _you._ Thank you, but I don’t need any help. You can go.” She says ‘politely’, eyeing Markus disdainfully.

“Mrs Stern, you have something like 20kg of fertilizer in here.” He argues, still holding out his hand, “And your bag must be heavy too. You’re free to continue to despise me, but please, let me help you with this.”

Amanda’s expression doesn’t change too much, but she’s taken aback enough that her hold on her grocery bag goes slack and she does hand it to the young man.

He smiles at her as if she hadn’t thrown spiteful words at him for the past year or so.

“There. They’re still fixing the elevator, should be all done by tomorrow, but still...” walking up three floors with that trolley would have been horrible for her. Markus, instead, is aided by both young age and a sturdy physique, as it is obvious by the way he lifts the trolley to carry it against his back without his voice even breaking as he speaks. “I couldn’t just stay and watch.”

“I— see…” It’s been a good few decades since the last time she has felt awkward. She’s disliked Markus for a long time because he’s noisy, he brings questionable people into the apartment building over and over, and has a despicable sexual conduct… and maybe because he is so pretty, so full of energy and so easily gets the attention of everybody around him that it reminds her too much of the girl she used to be decades ago, before her back was injured and eventually ruined, when plants were still a hobby and ballet was a profession, before passion turned into bitterness.

It hits a bit too close to home, and being in pain at least a little everyday goes a long way into making someone unpleasant.

Markus can't possibly know what she went through or how much pain she suffered through but, maybe precisely because he can't, he _doesn't_ judge her for her behaviour; and she does have a right to dislike who she wants.

They walk the first two flights of stairs in silence, until he eventually asks. "Ma'am?" His voice is soft, as if he doesn't really expect an answer. "If I may... Why do you hate me?"

Amanda almost stops in her tracks.

Her silence makes Markus realize what he just asked and he shakes his head, expression darkening just a little.

"Sorry, you're not obligated to answer that in any way." he assures, already back on track and looking purposefully ahead –which is why the small tug on his paint-stained sleeve startles him minutely.

Mrs. Stern isn't looking at him.

"I... don't hate you." She says without moving her gaze, "I just..."

Try as she might, she can't find the right words to finish that phrase. The earnest smile tentatively returns. "It's okay." He says, "You don't have to explain yourself to me, or anyone else, if you don't want to."

This is a young man she's been badmouthing, calling him a sex worker and worse, to his face sometimes, and whom she's actually been trying to get evicted even though the worst thing he ever did was having loud sex.

Suddenly, she feels mortified in his presence.

Luckily, they've reached her door in the meantime, and Markus puts the shopping trolley down and places the grocery bag to rest on top of it.

"There we go." He simply says, "You can handle it from here, can you, Mrs. A?"

She nods. "I can."

There's a second of awkward silence as Markus shifts from foot to foot. "Ok, cool." He mumbles, "I, uh... I should go now. I'll be downstairs if you need more help."

Amanda is admittedly not well-versed in accepting olive branches, and this whole situation still makes her incredibly uncomfortable, so she just nods again. "Go."

 

Markus is still smiling about it when he bumps into Connor coming in as he came back down.

"Connor! You'll never believe—" It freezes on his face when he sees the detective's arm wrapped in a sling and the scrapes on his face. "Holy shit, what happened?"

Connor shrugs his good shoulder. "Involuntary manslaughter. Some guys were being idiots on motorbikes and it ended badly for one of them." He explains, "We got called, the culprit got scared and tried to ride away..."

Markus takes a second to process the tale. "Did you... _jump on a moving motorbike_ to catch a suspect?"

"...maybe?" At least he sounds slightly sheepish about it, "The paramedics cleared me to return home, and Hank made me clock out for the night."

Markus can't help but chuckle and bite at his lower lip. On one hand, he would've loved to see that, it must have been insanely hot; on the other... _damn it, Connor, do you have a death wish or did you watch one too many superhero movies?_

Looks like he can still play little helper for tonight. "Go on, then." He urges, placing a hand on the small of Connor's back, "Let's get you inside and take care of those nasty-looking scrapes."

"I'm fine—"

"I'm _sure_ you are, but I couldn't forgive myself if something were to tarnish your beautiful visage and I did nothing about it."

Connor laughs through the warmth spreading in his chest –it's not the first time Markus calls him beautiful, in humor or otherwise, but it still makes his breath catch.

"...ok."

They end up in the familiar situation of Connor sitting on the couch and Markus at his side, delicately disinfecting the scabs and inspecting the damage –only, because it's his cheekbone this time, they're much closer than they've ever been.

Markus gently holds Connor's chin with one hand while working on his cheek with the other. "The good news is that it won't scar... how bad is the arm?"

"Oh, the sling is just a precaution... I took a nasty bump, nothing more..." Connor assures, trying very hard not to get lost in Markus' focused gaze, "They told me I have to keep it still tonight and tomorrow just in case, but that's about it."

"That's good." Markus smiles and sighs in relief at the news, putting down his tools now that everything that could have been done _has_ been done.

Connor’s gaze shifts slightly downwards, toward Markus’ mouth. "Still hurts like a bitch, though."

"Awww..." it comes out of Markus' mouth before he can stop it: "Do you want a kiss on the boo-boo?"

He expected the detective to laugh along and push him away, falling silent when Connor doesn't.

"I mean..." it's little more than a whisper, but they're already so close they can almost hear each other's heartbeat, "If you're offering..."

For once, Markus doesn't have a flirty or funny retort at the ready. His mouth feels dry, and he has to lick his lips as humor leaves his face to be replaced with quiet anticipation, staring at the other's face as if much more than a simple little kiss was on the line.

Still silent, he adjusts his grip on Connor, cradling his head with both hands at the sides of his chin, and his eyes go half lidded as he leans in, before closing completely when his lips touch the other's hurt cheekbone.

It's rough where the scrapes broke the skin and probably still tender, so Markus makes sure to keep his touch as delicate as possible, lingering only a couple of seconds before pulling away as slowly as he approached.

"There..." he barely manages to mutter.

"There..." Connor echoes the word with a breathless quality to his voice that would make one think they just did something much more _intimate_ than that.

And, considering the way Markus is looking at him right now, they might be soon.

His neighbour takes a breath deep enough that it makes his chest visibly expand and deflate under his shirt, the intensity in his mismatched eyes still achingly close and almost feeling like it's undressing Connor on the spot.

Then, all of a sudden, it breaks.

"I should go." He retreats from the sideways embrace they were in reluctantly, but still clears his voice and gets a more respectful distance between them. "Eat something and take some ibuprofen. It'll help you sleep through the bruises."

Connor is still dazed by the warm softness of Markus' lips pressing against his cheek, so much that he feels his skin tingling where the other has kissed, even as Markus withdraws and heads for the door.

"Okay... thanks, Markus."

His neighbour smiles at him like he's struggling not to go back inside. "Anytime, Connor."

Come night-time, Markus knows Connor is passed out on painkillers so he wouldn't be able to keep him company, but that doesn't stop him from settling on his bed in his underwear and leaning his head against the bedframe –he gets his hands on himself, imagining how Connor would pick up where they left off.

He'd grab Markus at the waist and pull him up to straddle his lap over the couch, and _he_ would kiss Connor slow and deep while unbuttoning his shirt.

The other's skin is usually cool to the touch, but oh, Markus would know how to warm him right up. He gets lost in the fantasy of slowly undressing the usually prim and proper detective and licks his lips at the mere thought –he's been palming himself through his boxers almost absently so far, but that's the moment he slips his hand past the waistband.

" _Connor_..." It's not as enticing when there's only induced silence on the other side, but Markus still has the feeling of Connor's skin under his lips to work with –even just that brief contact has been seared on his mouth, along with a craving for _more_.

He strokes himself at a fast, almost messy pace; imagining Connor would get a little rough once they get going: a guy who can and _will_ jump on a _moving motorbike_ is without a doubt a recipe for adventure and Markus definitely likes the ingredients he's seen. It doesn't take too long for him to lose control eventually...

...it's almost a shame that Connor is completely out of commission for the night and missed the melody of Markus groaning his name again and again as he teases himself to completion until he finally winds down enough to sleep.

 

If they hadn't crossed a line when they started habitually masturbating to the sound of each other's voice from one wall to another, it would seem that they've done so now— and it's pretty much hilarious that such a turn comes from something as innocent as a kiss on the cheek.

North seems to think so, at any rate.

"God, Markus, when did you become such a disaster?" She asks, still trying to control her giggles while they get out the supplies to help Markus wrap up the giant-ass painting.

"I _don't know_!" He protests, hunching his shoulder in a rather unsuccessful attempt at making himself smaller, "This guy has ruined me! I've tried going out to pick up random strangers, but every little thing would either remind me of him or make me go and _compare_."

"Awww!!!" From where she's sitting on the floor, Chloe cannot contain her mirth, "You're in love!"

Markus just pouts some more as they spread out the bubble wrap. "So what? I've been in love before."

"Yes, and it was a lovely threesome all the way through an entire year, but still!" It's kind of hard to forget for Chloe, the span of time where she, Markus and a hot TA from her university all were seeing each other -it started when both guys took an interest in her, and when she confessed to not being able to choose between them Markus proposed that she didn't, winking at the other guy and mentioning that if everyone was consenting he was down for it. It lasted up until Chloe's graduation at the end of that same year, then the three of them started drifting apart and simply broke it off on amicable terms.

Even so... it's been a good couple of years since then, and none of their circle has seen Markus express such a genuine interest in anyone ever since.

"What I don't understand is what you're waiting for to confess to him..." Simon mentions casually, pretending to make himself useful by tugging at a few corners, "I've only seen him once or twice but it looks to me like you two are practically dating already!"

Markus shoots a longing look in the direction of his bedroom. He smiles wistfully as he shakes his head –he woke up late this morning and all was silent in Connor's apartment, he probably went either to work or to the doctor's to have his wounds checked properly, so without thinking twice Markus put on a couple headphones and got to work on the finishing touches for the piece they're packing now like putting it in the frame, cutting a proper glass pane for it and such.

It's a noisy business, so blasting music into his ears not only helped him distract himself, but also protected his hearing from the godawful glass saw noise. Still, it also means he hasn't heard from Connor all day, and he honestly can't wait to have this packed and ready for pick up so he can go check on the detective himself, if only to ask after his health.

Shit, he's _really_ in love. “I told you, he’s… different. Special.” He says, “I know he wouldn’t hold my past habits against me, but he would still be uncomfortable with what’s been a big part of my life.”

“Markus…”

 

_“Why do you do this to yourself?! You do know that you deserve to be happy too, don’t you?”_

That sounds like Simon –he also sounds upset.

 _“And you’re also using the past tense to talk about polyamory. In your heart, you’ve already decided you can and would give it up for him.”_ A lady voice. So either the famed North or Chloe. _“So what are you being such a tiptoeing little bitch for?”_

Ok, _definitely_ North.

But what the hell are they arguing about? Connor knows he shouldn’t, but he just got back from his doctor’s appointment: he’s been cleared health-wise but he still got the rest of the day to lie in… and he kinda hoped to spend it with Markus. He hesitates in the doorway.

 _“I don’t know… there’s something about him, that… he’s just… so…”_ he’s never heard Markus sound so insecure that he stumble over words, and that’s including their disaster of a first meeting. _“Connor is an extraordinary individual. Being near him is amazing, but it kinda makes me feel like… damaged goods, by comparison.”_

 _“You did not just say that!!!”_ Connor agrees a lot with the outraged third voice that he assumes is Chloe.

_“Markus Manfred, you’re the only human being with a penis that I’ve ever put out for and I still love and cherish you dearly as a friend, but goddamn you say the stupidest shit sometimes.”_

Against his better judgment and common decency –which he has largely abandoned when it comes to Markus– the detective steps closer to his neighbour’s door. It’s open by a sliver… right, Markus mentioned having to pack up stuff and leave it out for pick up.

_“I know you know there’s nothing shameful about your choices and your life is your own, so… what gives?”_

Excellent question, Simon. Connor holds his breath for Markus’ answer.

_“I… I don’t know, I just… look at him… I think of the way he makes me feel, the things he does, and… I can’t help but think… that he deserves someone better.”_

_That_ is too much. Embarrassment be damned, Connor barges in.

“Better than you?!” all the people in the room nearly jump out of their skin at his outburst, but Connor doesn’t care. He quickly walks around the big frame splayed out on the floor to grab Markus by the hands and make him stand up to face him. “Markus, nothing on this godforsaken floating space rock could _ever_ be better than you.”

“Connor, what—”

Uncaring of the people watching them and of his own personal insecurities still gnawing at the back of his mind, Connor lets go of Markus’ hands in favor of grabbing him at the shoulders.

“I should have told you a long time ago.” The detective says, eyes only briefly flicking sideways to their audience before focusing back on Markus, “I’ve wanted you ever since I first heard your voice through my bedroom walls. I don’t know how it’s fair that someone like you exists at all, because you drive me absolutely fucking crazy.” Connor can see his neighbour is at a loss for words, for once, so he takes his chance and carries on: “But it’s become more than that. You _care_. So much, about everything, about _me_ , I— you’re the first one to ever really be _there_ for me, and I— fuck it, I love you.”

There’s a collective gasp from their left, and Markus is even more speechless, mismatched eyes widening in surprise.

“I love you.” Connor repeats, “I don’t care if you’ve dated the entire goddamn NBA league all at once or whatever, I love you because you’re _you_.” He bites self-consciously at his lower lip before continuing, “But I’m selfish. I want it all and I want you all to myself. The only reason I haven’t said anything before now is that I didn’t think you would give that up for me.”

Off to the side, there’s a slightly high-pitched “awww” sound.

North promptly puts a hand over Simon’s mouth.

It still makes Markus shoot a glance towards his friends. Chloe shakes his head at him and smiles encouragingly at him. “Well? He’s right here. Go on, say something!”

He looks back at Connor. Connor, who just told him _he loves him_. Three times in a row.

“Connor, I…” he takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I never said anything because I thought you wouldn’t be comfortable with the idea that any person we meet might be someone who I’ve had sex with at some point in time.” The other scoffs, and Markus hurries to continue: “I know, it’s a stupid thought. I couldn’t help it. I’ve been comparing the two of us ever since you showed up and you’re… special. You deserve someone who makes it special. And I thought nothing about me really was.”

“Markus…”

“But… I’m selfish too.” He continues, before Connor can even counter that phrase, “I could have all the people in the world and still be left wanting. Because I want _you_ and only you. _All_ of you. Without that stupid wall between us.”

In reaction to those words, Connor just hugs him tight. “Say it.” He almost orders, nuzzling into Markus’ neck. “I know you’re thinking it.”

Markus’ hands, who had been hanging loosely at his sides, lowly come up to splay con Connor’s back. He touches his lips to the other’s shoulders as he does say it: “…I love you too.”

God, it feels so good to have it out in the open.

Grinning to himself, Markus breaks the embrace to turn to his friends. “Guys, I know I called you in to help, but could you give us—”

Chloe, North and Simon are nowhere in sight.

Connor laughs softly at Markus’ surprise. “I think they’re a step ahead of you in giving us some privacy.”

It makes a different kind of smile spread on Markus’ lips. “I have the best of friends.”

He loops his arms around Connor’s neck, and starts walking them in the direction of his bedroom. Connor has never been there before, but it’s _Markus_ all the way through –the speckles of paint on furniture, the paintings and photographs, the scattered papers and supplies on the desk, plushies and little gizmos that are likely presents from the kids he works with…

As chance would have it, on the bed rests the fateful green set of sheets Markus tripped over on their first meeting –and he knows his neighbour noticed, from the amused little giggle that escaped his throat, low and sudden.

“So, uh…” Connor doesn’t get the chance to finish the phrase, because Markus kisses him right then and there, nipping at his lips for access and _god_ , how to ever deny that mouth? He finally gets the chance to feel Markus’ mouth, to taste his tongue and suck on those delicious-looking lips; he’s not going to pass that up.

He only pulls away when he notices Markus has been marching them to go sit on the bed. “Markus… I don’t want you to think that you need—”

A hand comes to cover his mouth.

“I will only say this once, so listen up.” Markus says, suddenly much more confident than he was before. “Yes, I’ve had a lot of casual sex. Yes, _some_ of that was a coping mechanism with my own insecurities. But I’m _not_ some fragile-minded mess that only thinks of their worth in terms of sex. I know we could stop at kissing and you’d still be here for me tomorrow.” Connor smiles against the other’s hand, shoulders relaxing, but Markus is not done: “The only reason we’re here right now is that I want your cock, I’ve been wanting it from day one and if all our rom-com bullshit is out of the way now, I’d like to get on with it.”

The bluntness of his words makes Connor jump enough that Markus’ hand falls from his mouth.

“ _Holy shit_ , Markus.”

In response to that, Markus simply smiles and grabs Connor’s hands, guiding them under his t-shirt. “Go on, now. I remember all those things you say you’d do to me.” His voice drops to the octave he uses whenever they would have their late-night sessions and Connor’s arousal spikes in an almost Pavlovian response, “Why don’t you take your pick?”

Needless to say, the first thing Connor does is lean forward to kiss him again –they’ve only just started, but he already knows kissing Markus will be high on his list of favorite things to do. But it’s shaping up to be a long list, so he slowly hikes Markus’ t-shirt up and pulls away just enough to help the other yank it off.

Shirtless Markus has always been a treat for the eyes, and more than once during their peculiar friendship Connor has had to endure the sight without being able to touch. Now, though, he is free to put his mouth on the other’s freckled skin and go to town.

Markus’ breath hitches when Connor starts biting and sucking at his clavicle, nipping his way down his chest. His hands fly behind the other’s shoulder-blades, pressing against it in an attempt to pull him even closer –they have barely even started foreplay and already Markus feels his erection tent his jeans, brought forth just by sheer closeness to the subject of a desire long denied. “Shirt.” He breathes out, “Off. _Now_.”

His partner laughs lowly against his skin, before pulling away to comply –and holy shit. Connor is lean and lithe, but Markus can see trained muscle underneath the soft milky skin, marred by the occasional scar here and there, possibly gotten in the line of work… that’s right, Connor is a detective, and could without a doubt kick _anyone’s_ ass. It turns him on even more. “Get back here.”

“So demanding…” Connor teases him, but he’s more than happy to settle between Markus’ legs and resume his exploration of the other’s torso, caressing and mouthing any available skin and grinding down hard when Markus moans for him— it’s starting.

This is how he gets so noisy –who gives a fuck about being quiet if you’re feeling so good?

Markus moves in a practiced way when he reaches an arm out towards his nightstand and fumbles about for a second, and Connor doesn’t need to turn and look to know what has been dropped on the mattress right beside him. He lets his hands caress their way down Markus’ back, enjoying the shiver it gets him until he goes to cup two full handfuls of supple buttocks.

“How do you want to do this?” he whispers it against the skin of the other’s cheek –he really can’t keep his mouth away too long.

Markus’ answer makes even more blood surge downward, if that’s even humanly possible: “You go first. I’ve been wanting you to hold me down and fuck me into the mattress for a while.”

“ _God_ , the things you say…”

Connor lets Markus help him get his jeans and underwear off –Markus probably has a bit too much fun teasing him with deft fingers as he slides the condom on Connor himself; and by the time he’s good to go, the detective is already breathing in short, trembling puffs. “Do you want me to—”

“Not my first rodeo.” Markus punctuate the statement with a bite at Connor’s lower lip, “Tease me if you must, but I really, _really_ just want your cock in me right now.”

Connor’s eyes take on an intensity so thick Markus can feel it on his skin –he loves every second of it.

“Turn around for me, then.”

Slow and graceful like a cat, Markus turns around, sitting up for a moment so he can get himself out of his sweatpants and underwear, then he leans forward and rests on his elbows and knees, ready and wanting just for Connor.

“Fuck, Markus, you’re so beautiful…” Connor runs a hand down the other’s back, almost reverently, feeling Markus arch under his fingers in anticipation and relishing in every movement of that toned back. He grabs at the hips and lines himself up.

“Mm— _fuck_ …” Markus throws his head back as Connor pushes in, and the detective leans forward over his body to let Markus lean the nape of his head on his shoulder, pushing closer and closer until he’s all the way in.

They stay like that for a few seconds –Connor’s body already feels on fire at the mere idea that it’s _actually_ happening, really, it’s a wonder he hasn’t come prematurely like a goddamn teenager… it’s probably thanks to the more or less regular relief Markus gave him whenever they jacked off to each other’s voice.

“Connor…” shit, nobody ever called his name like that –Markus’ voice is wanton and unashamed, “ _Move_!”

The detective is more than happy to oblige.

He starts it slow, to get the both of them used to the friction –condoms are slightly lubricated by design, but it’s generally good not to go too harsh too soon… also, Connor wants to savour this moment.

So he pulls out slightly, then pushes back in, trying to keep his movements in synch with the deep breaths he’s taking not to completely lose it yet. He goes again. And again.

Soon enough, he’s fucking Markus at a leisure pace, not too rough but not too soft either, ad Markus’ breath comes out of him in little “oh” or “ah” sounds and, rises steadily in volume the more Connor goes on.

“More!” he eventually says, unable to take the teasing once his arousal plateaus at the other’s constant ministrations.

“You’re so greedy…” Connor laughs, pulling out slightly to lean down and kiss him between the shoulder blades, before slamming in with an unexpected increase in force, “I love it.”

“ _Fuck_!” Markus gasps and arches under him, one hand flying up and behind to paw helplessly at the nape of Connor’s neck. “Ah— _there—_ Connor…”

Yes, it definitely feels divine to be on _this_ side of the wall. Connor picks up the pace reaching around with one hand to start stroking Markus as he fucks him.

Then Markus’ hand finds purchase in his hair and _pulls_ , making him let out a moan that would definitely be heard over in his apartment.

The irony doesn’t escape him, but he’s too lost in pleasure to be amused.

“Shit— ah— _harder_!”

Well, who is he to deny such a request? Markus’ voice hasn’t lost any of its charm now that he can hear it up close; if anything he wants _more_ of it. It’s addicting to hear the other cry out for him… it especially doesn’t escape Connor that, in all the times he heard Markus have all his one night stands; he never called the name of the person he was with.

And yet…

“Yeah, just like that— _fuck_ , Connor…”

 _This_ time it sounds like there are scarcely any other words in Markus’ vocabulary. The weight of that particular fact doesn’t escape him, and it spurs Connor to go harder and faster, until they’re both panting and losing control, moans and gasps filling the silence of the afternoon.

“Markus…” Connor has been holding the other at the hip with one hand and stroking his length with the other for a while now, but his lips have wasted no time in going were his hands couldn’t, dropping kisses and bites behind Markus’ back and shoulders as if to map out and memorize the taste of his partner’s skin with his mouth. “Markus…”

The sound of his name being repeated like a mantra seems to draw Markus even closer to the edge. “Connor—” he calls out in response, volume control long forgotten in favor of the blinding pleasure coursing through his body, “I’m gonna… I’m— ah…”

Markus comes first, but he keeps chanting Connor’s name in ecstasy while the other keeps thrusting into him, until he too comes undone to broken gasps of Markus’ name.

For a few moments, they stay like that, lying face-down on the sheets and breathing hard to let the feeling of bliss wash over them.

Eventually, Markus speaks when Connor carefully pulls out to lie a bit more comfortably against him: “I should have told you sooner… _fuck_ , I’ve been missing out.”

Coming from someone as… experienced as the other is, it’s quite the flattering thought. Connor chuckles and kisses one of his shoulders. “Really? One month and a half of foreplay is too much?”

Markus laughs along, turning into the embrace to search for the detective’s lips with his own. “Maybe a little, yeah.” He places a soft, chaste kiss on Connor’s lips… and then another. And then one more, like he can’t quite believe he’s finally allowed to. “Come on now… let me take care of that.”

He doesn’t shy away from the task of getting the used condom off Connor and disposing of it –then, just because he can, he takes his sweatpants all the way off and throws them to one side, since he was getting uncomfortable wearing them only halfway up his thighs.

When he moves back to bed, he crawls up to Connor and tugs at his jeans, to help him get them all the way off as well. The detective is grateful for the help and sighs in content when he feels Markus’ hands caress their way up his legs.

“Why don’t you stay here for the rest of the day?” Markus asks, in a whisper of lips against Connor’s chest, “You’re still hurt; I can take such _good care_ of you…”

“Oh, you don’t have to convince me, I’m sold.” The detective laughs lightly – _this_ is also why he fell in love with Markus: he’s never been so light-hearted before, as prone to overthinking everything as he was… in any other situation, he’d have declined the offer, worried about imposing or overstaying his welcome… but in the here and now, in Markus’ arms and still high on the sensations he’s been craving for so long, Connor can safely admit there’s no other place he’d rather be.

He tilts his head when he feels Markus kiss his way down his neck, closing his eyes in relaxation. A few minutes pass like that, until Connor feels his skin getting hyperaware of his partner’s hand running down his chest, brushing over his abdomen, until Markus shamelessly palms his cock again, sending a jolt of arousal through him.

Well, then. “Hey there. In the mood for round two?” he asks in a whispered chuckle, but amusement dies down and is replaced with lust when he crosses Markus’ hungry eyes.

He very purposefully drags his hands down both of Connor’s sides, digging his nails in slightly and enjoying the arch it prompts, until he can put both hands under the detective’s knees and hike both legs over his biceps.

Markus licks his lips as they make eye contact once more: “My turn, now.”

Connor never thought the sight of someone putting on a condom could be erotic, but by now he thinks Markus could make just about anything look erotic, if he put his mind to it. He catches one of Markus’ fingers in his mouth when a hand comes up to caress his face, and he enjoys immensely the look it gets him and the hitch in his partner's breath. The surprise is short lived, though, and Markus lets Connor suck on his fingers a few more seconds before taking his hand away and down the other's body.

The detective can't hold back his moan when he feels that same hand tease at his entrance.

How can anyone ever stay silent with this beautiful, godly creature stimulating them in all the right ways?

Connor really gets it now. He's already a mess as Markus fingers him to fully get him back in the mood, he was absolutely not ready for how mind-numbingly good it would feel to have Markus ram into him over and over, getting progressively rougher and making Connor love every second of it.

It gets intense enough that Connor feels his feet smack against Markus' back, groaning for him and getting needier with each thrust. At some point, he notices there's a loud thump echoing over and over and he smiles amidst the haze of pleasure –no wonder his bedframe would rattle on the other side.

He comes apart screaming Markus' name while feeling the other fill him up again and again, hard and fast like a goddamn jackhammer... and it doesn't take long for Markus to follow suit in muttered curses and gasps of the other's name as Connor's hand still scratch at his back and shoulders.

 

They're having a lovely dinner after washing up –separately, or they would have stayed in the bathroom for who knows how long— when the doorbell rings.

Thinking it's just the gallery courier for the pick-up, Markus doesn't really bother with a shirt as he goes to open the door.

"Heya, come take a seat, I'll just—" He stops dead in his tracks when he comes face to face with Amanda, colour draining slightly from his face. "Uh... h-hello, Mrs. A?"

Mrs. Stern is largely unimpressed and sniffs in mild disdain at Markus' state of undress.

"You know, when you didn't cause disturbances for almost four weeks straight, I _almost_ thought you were actually on your way to become a decent young man."

Markus bites his lower lip to avoid commenting that there's never been anything _straight_ or _decent_ about him, but he does hunch his shoulders sheepishly –he didn't think they'd be loud enough for it to carry through the roof.

Luckily, Connor has risen from his seat at the kitchen table and comes to his rescue: "I'm afraid it's my fault this time, Amanda..." he apologizes, and the lady does a double-take upon seeing him here, especially because the t-shirt doesn't have a high enough collar to hide the love bites on his neck, nor are the boxers long enough to hide the ones on his thighs. “We got carried away and... well..." he turns to look at Markus, gazing at him head to toe and back without holding back all his love and desire, "If I wasn't the possessive sort, I'd dare anyone to have _all that_ between their legs and not scream their lungs out."

Markus nearly chokes at Connor's unfazed bluntness in front of the building's uptight _madam_ –Amanda herself seems quite taken aback.

She blinks repeatedly, bringing a hand up to her mouth to clear her voice. "Is this going to be a regular occurrence?"

The dispassionate stare does make Markus chuckle a little. "If it's any consolation... at least there will be no more visitors coming and going through the night..?"

Amanda clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "That's what I thought." Sighing as she is, with both hands on her hips, she does look every bit like a school mistress; but eventually her composure breaks and she opens her purse to take out a business card and hold it out to Markus.

"What..."

"There's a music shop not too far from where I go buy materials for my gardening." Amanda explains, point not sinking in until she carries on: "They do soundproofing as well. You boys might want to... invest in that."

It's... not the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him, but Markus is still in awe at how far Mrs. Stern's behaviour is from the angry, bitter person who used to want him evicted at all costs. "Mrs. A... I'm—"

"Don't." She interrupts, taking a small step back to look at the both of them. As if that wasn't enough, she actually _smiles_ at them. "Don't apologize. I may be a miserable old hag now, but I've been young once, too. Just smile and say _'thank you, Amanda, how very thoughtful'_."

"Thank you, Amanda." Connor echoes, while Markus is still mildly speechless as he takes the card, "That really is very thoughtful."

It takes an elbow to the ribs to remind Markus to talk, but he does manage to get a few words out: "Thanks, Mrs. A."

Well, baby steps.

Amanda allows herself a chuckle: "I'm not just doing this for you boys, or for my own peace and quiet..." she says, prompting curious gazes from them both, "If you two keep this up, you'll make the whole building jealous and they'll all hate you. Do try to keep the _fun_ to yourselves."

She disappears with a wink before Markus can even sputter at the implications, and he's left to look at his newly-found boyfriend in confusion.

"What the hell just happened?"

Connor shrugs. "Angry wine aunt gave us her blessing?"

Markus had never thought about Amanda like that, but now that it's in his head he can't stop laughing at the mental image.

"Well, then... shall we get back to our dinner?"

Connor just smiles and takes the offered hand.

 

He'd been happy to find a place close to the station and with cheap rent, but he's even happier to be out of it when the 12 month contract is up. It means he can move in with Markus, which means even cheaper rent, delicious home-made food and mind-blowing sex on top of having the person he loves right by his side. They _do_ invest in soundproofing the bedroom: whoever will end up in the empty apartment after Connor really doesn't need to suffer through what he did.

Plus, Markus' lovely voice is just for _him_ now.

And they both want to keep it that way – _some_ things, after all, are better left behind closed doors.


End file.
